some other way (to tell you you're okay)
by Anastasia-G
Summary: A carefree one night stand leaves Bonnie pregnant. Breaking a thousand year old curse isn't everything Klaus imagined it would be. When Bonnie agrees to leave town with the hybrid in exchange for her friends' safety, what begins as a coerced alliance has a chance to become a different kind of family. [Klonnie] [Baby/Pregnancy fic]
1. Chapter 1: Tinkerbell

_"And if the breeze won't blow your way, I will be the sun_

 _And if the sun won't shine your way, I will be the rain_

 _And if the rain won't wash away all your aches and pains_

 _I will find some other way to tell you you're okay."_

 _-_ My Brightest Diamond _, I have never loved someone_

* * *

The night she finds Jeremy in the arms of a ghost, Bonnie doesn't stay to argue, she doesn't call her friends, in fact she doesn't even go home.

She drives and drives and by the time she ends up at a small bar that pulses with blue light and jukebox tunes her tears have already turned into salt dust.

Predictably, they don't ask for her ID; bars on this side of town rarely did.

Soon, she is lost in a crowd.

(Anna is dead and yet _she's_ the one who feels like a ghost.)

She slips off her jacket, sways her shoulders to the music. It doesn't take too many drinks until her fingertips and toes start to tingle. She could fly, maybe. Like Tinkerbell, she thinks, and giggles a little.

"Hey there beautiful."

Hands, a face, a low, sweet voice. She turns into the stranger's arms with a smile, traces fingertips like glitter along his shoulder.

She feels buoyantly hollow, nameless and alluring.

"Let's dance."

And so they do. And she doesn't quite fly but after that last shot of tequila there's a mist of feathers in her head.

"My name's Jake, what's yours?"

It's then she glances over her companion's shoulder and sees _him_ , watching her from the bar, a faint smirk (or was it a smile? she can never tell with him) on his face.

 _Klaus_.

Bonnie feels her eyes narrow, her spine stiffening.

What was he _doing_ here? Didn't he have a whole town - no, a world - to terrorize now that he'd acquired enough blood for his hybrid army?

And yet here he is, looking her over in the most blatant kind of way - her skinny jeans, the purple camisole top she'd pilfered from Elena ages ago and never returned, her gloss-covered mouth - as though she's a fruit he might want to peel.

Their gazes lock and stubbornly refuse to let go. Klaus angles his head, as if to say, _your move_.

"You're so fucking hot," Jake whispers along her ear, "god, and you smell _so_ good."

And in that moment, Bonnie decides that Klaus ( _and_ Jeremy _and_ Stefan _and_ Damon) have commanded her attention enough.

She lifts her chin at the hybrid and thinks, recklessly, the way a bird leaps into the sky for the first time, _If you want me, come get me._

Then she turns away, and kisses Jake on the mouth. And kisses him again, and again, and again.

Later, she would wish she had never issued such a challenge, even in thought.

Later, later.

* * *

Several weeks pass until the night Klaus tells a tense audience at the Salvatore boarding house what his terms are for leaving Mystic Falls permanently.

Damon and Stefan gather protectively around Elena. Caroline huddles into Tyler, who is now Klaus' sired.

Perched on the couch, Bonnie is tired, and deprived of sleep, and doing her best to avoid Jeremy's remorseful looks, when Klaus' gaze swivels her way.

"The witch," he says, almost casually, as if he were shopping for a new shirt.

Shock ripples through the room. Elena sobs in protest.

Bonnie, who has long learned the taste of inevitability, remains silent.

Jeremy is immediately a wall of muscle between her and the hybrid. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"Doesn't seem like she's going anywhere with _you_ either, mate." And Klaus gives her a mocking kind of look, and Bonnie flushes, recalling the night he'd seen her with Jake. The night that no one, not even Elena and Caroline, knew about.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jeremy postures, folding his arms.

And the next instant, he is flying across the room, crash landing on a table. Elena rushes to his side. Bonnie makes to follow but it's a beat too late, and Klaus, she knows, has seized on that second of hesitance like a wolf with a lamb. His eyes burn with a knowing light, as though she has exposed some part of herself.

Bonnie braces herself for an attack, but instead he grasps her chin and forces her to meet his gaze. His words fall like golden dust, promising flight. "You will want for nothing. Grimoires, travel, clothes, whatever luxuries you fancy. All I ask in return is a tiny bit of witchy help."

'A tiny bit of help'. Bonnie resists the urge to laugh in his face. She ignores the lavish promises and cuts to the chase, "I _won't_ kill for you."

Klaus flicks a strand of hair off her shoulder with a glinting smile, "Leave the killing to me, sweetheart."

He does not bother to address anyone else in the room, does not even spare them a glance.

"You have one week to say your goodbyes. When you're ready, you apparently know where to find me." He whispers that last in her ear, and she can hear the amusement in his voice.

Then with a wink and a dimpled grin, he's off, swaggering away from chaos in that cool way Bonnie both hates and (is shocked to find) envies.

Elena flies to her and she is enveloped in a teary hug. "No, no, no no you _can't_ do this, we'll find a way to -,"

Bonnie holds her, mumbles something reassuring.

The silence in the room is full of ghosts.

* * *

It's both the longest and shortest week of her life.

She finds herself inexplicably exhausted, lying in bed many hours after the sun has climbed the sky. Whole afternoons are slept away on the couch, and she is yawning as soon as night falls.

Her life is being pulled up by the roots, and she almost feels too tired to resist.

Her appetite has grown mercurial (hardly surprising, she thinks, considering what awaits her) and she wakes up feeling sick to her stomach. Of course, she keeps all this from her friends, who are still in denial about her impending departure.

The appointed morning arrives like any other. Rudy has to leave for a month long business trip, and is full of excitement about corporate mergers and the future of Mystic Falls. Bonnie sits across from him at the breakfast table and tries to enjoy her pancakes.

"Are you gonna eat, honey?"

"Umm...I guess I'm not very hungry," Bonnie smiles it off, sipping some orange juice.

Rudy frowns a little, "You've been tired a lot lately. You coming down with something? I can postpone my flight-,"

She fights the swell of panic. Rudy absolutely _could not_ be here when Klaus arrived. All her careful planning would be ruined.

"No, no I'm fine. I'm just...stressed about finals. But Caroline's coming over later and we're gonna hit the books."

"You sure you're okay?"

Bonnie bites her lip. She's usually much better and suppressing her emotions, but lately everything makes her want to bawl.

"I'm sure," she changes the subject. "How're the pancakes?"

Rudy's eyes soften, "They're wonderful. My turn to make breakfast next time. I gotta spoil you a little before you go off to college."

Bonnie can think of nothing to say, so she pours him more coffee and wipes her eyes at the kitchen sink.

* * *

 _Where is he?_

Bonnie checks her watch impatiently. Klaus is almost an hour late. She gives Caroline half that time to figure out the ruse she's sent the gang on and barrel back here.

Bonnie doesn't want to risk anyone getting hurt if her friends decided to antagonize Klaus, nor did she want the hybrid to witness her saying goodbye. He already knows too much about where her heart lies.

Still, it's hard not to want to pick up the phone and call her friends, to cry and beg them to come get her.

 _This is for the best_ , she tells herself over and over. This way, no one has to get hurt.

 _Except maybe you_ , a small voice nags in her head.

 _I can take care of myself_ , she repeats like a mantra.

She is rather surprised when Klaus arrives, not in some ostentatious sports car as she'd imagined, but a moving truck.

"What, no minions to help you move?" she mutters.

"It will be a rather cold day in hell, little witch, when I entrust Caravaggios and Mesoamerican relics to 'minions'." He pauses, looking her over. She is huddled on her porch in an oversize sweatshirt and jeans. "And where are the rest of your belongings?"

Bonnie gestures at her blue Herschel backpack and suitcase.

Something crosses his face, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. As he lifts her luggage off the porch steps, a large, heavy book slides out and thuds to the floor. She hurries forward but Klaus already has it in his long-fingered grasp.

She tries to snatch it back but his hold is iron. "Let go," she grits out.

Klaus raises an eyebrow, surveying the leathery tome so close to falling apart. She wants to scream and claw at his hands. She wants to set his truck, with all those stupid paintings and relics or whatever, on _fire_ , because no vampire has the right to touch what he's holding so casually: Sheila Bennett's Grimoire, marked with her loopy handwriting, still smelling faintly like old-fashioned jasmine perfume.

Suddenly, she feels her throat tighten, a rush of tears flooding her eyes.

Bonnie bites her lip hard enough to break the skin. She would _not_ cry in front of him. And just like that night at the bar, she lifts her chin and refuses to be cowed. She barely feels the tear that escapes down her cheek.

Her voice wavers then gains strength.

"It's a family heirloom."

He glances down at her small hands gripping the book's spine, and releases the Grimoire so suddenly she almost stumbles.

"Then you should take better care of it, love. Have it re-bound, restore those tattered pages. I know a papyrus worker in Venice -,"

Bonnie clutches Sheila's legacy to her chest. Her words come laced with a coldness she didn't know herself capable of.

"I don't need _any_ help from you."

She brushes past him and climbs into the truck.

As they leave Mystic Falls behind in the rearview, Bonnie reaches for something, anything inside herself to stave off the looming emptiness. She tries to hold on to her father's smile, her friends' laughter, the pretty blue dress from her sixteenth birthday, the winged recklessness that night at the bar when she had felt, briefly, like nothing could ever, _ever_ hurt her unless she let it.

But it all slips through her fingers like sand.

She turns off her phone, ignoring the dozens of missed calls and texts from Caroline.

The highway stretches before them and afternoon melts quickly into night. Curling into the seat, Bonnie holds tighter to her grandmother's Grimoire and tries to remember a time she felt safe.

* * *

 _A/N: What do I do the day before classes begin? Drop a new Klonnie fic of course because I make excellent life choices. I've wanted to write this for a while, because I wanted a Klonnie babyfic where the focus is less on biological inheritance and more on found families. This won't be super plot heavy, but rather focuses on Klaus and Bonnie and their relationships to other people and each other (and of course, pregnancy/baby cuteness). It's AU from the beginning of S3, and while you'll recognize some events as they pop up, the timing and import will be radically different. Hope you stick along for the ride! (And gimme some sugar aka let me know your thoughts ) xoxox Enjoy loves!_


	2. Chapter 2: down to the river

She awakes to the voice of a river.

The Osage, a tributary of the Missouri, is over two hundred miles long. Bonnie remembers AP Geography class, tracing her fingers over the map and wondering how a body could travel so far and still remember where to return.

Slowly, her senses float into awareness. Soft sunlight and the whisper of trees fill the windows, and she is wrapped in sheets smelling faintly of lemon verbena, comfortable and cool under an old-fashioned ceiling fan.

Downstairs, Bonnie can hear someone moving around a kitchen, the sound of pots, oil sizzling in a pan. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee wafts up to her room.

It's so calm and surreal she almost forgets why she's here.

And who she's here with.

She'd been surprised when Klaus announced they were stopping for the night, not at some mansion or hotel, but a farmhouse in Missouri that he had keys to. Exhausted from a day of travel that involved cooped up in a truck with the hybrid, Bonnie had closed herself in her room and fallen asleep in her jeans and sweatshirt.

A glance at her phone shows her it's almost 10 am now.

She's so tired she could easily fall back asleep, but her stomach growls in reminder that she hasn't eaten since last evening.

Hunger wins out, and after a quick shower and a change of clothes Bonnie pads cautiously down stairs.

By daylight the house is warmly beautiful, with clean wood floors, patterned rugs, and potted plants in all the windows.

Drawn by the smell of breakfast, the witch finds her way to the large sunlit kitchen.

"Morning! I'm Hazel, so great to meet you." A tall woman with curly grey hair ushers Bonnie into a chair and sets a mug down in front of her before she can say 'thank you'.

"Sit, sit, have some coffee. John and Nik will be back soon. Bonnie, right? Such a pretty name," Hazel remarks, dropping some cinnamon into a bowl. "Sorry we weren't awake last night, dear. I told Nik to call us from the road but he's such a considerate boy, just like his dad..,"

"Nik...," she echoes faintly.

"Oh that's what we call him, so we don't mix him up with Klaus Sr."

Bonnie is starting to feel more and more like she's in the Twilight Zone.

Hazel gestures at some framed pictures above her sink.

"Klaus, Nik's father. That's us at the Tri-Nation Powwow in 1965."

She blinks in disbelief. Sure enough, there's Klaus, standing barefoot in the grass next to a regalia-clad Hazel. His hair is longer, almost brushing his shoulders, and he's wearing a loose tunic shirt and jeans.

"He was a kinda flower child type," Hazel chuckles.

" _Flower child_ -,"

"Nik is a bit more serious, though he's pretty artistic in a different way. He painted that for me." Hazel points at a watercolor of a river winding past a small house.

She has no idea Klaus is a vampire, Bonnie realizes. That part is easy enough. What she can't fathom is the sheer affection this woman is evincing for Klaus. _Klaus._

"Have you two been dating long?"

Bonnie almost chokes on her coffee.

Hazel's eyes crinkle in laughter, "I'm sorry, didn't mean to pry. I know young people today don't like labels." She shakes her head, "I'm talking too much. I'm just so excited to see Nik, it's been years. Him being kind of a lone wolf and all."

"That's... one way of putting it."

"Well I'm glad you're here, Bonnie. I don't think he's ever brought anyone else around these parts."

"Lucky me," Bonnie mumbles as her eyes travel over the kitchen. Dried herbs hang above the sink, little glass birds glint in the window, and the walls are covered with decorative copperware. There's no dishwasher or chrome appliances, and the paint is fading from the cupboards. Everything radiates cozy fulfillment. This is a kitchen people have feasted and drunk and laughed in. Generations of memory nestle in the corners. And somehow, _Klaus_ fits into those memories.

The witch eyes Hazel carefully. She didn't exhibit any signs of Compulsion and yet-

Bonnie shakes her head to clear it of strange images, images of Klaus sitting down to dinner with a family, posing for a picture, watching the sunset through this kitchen window-

\- the back-door swings open and there's the sound of boots and manly laughter.

Hazel greets her husband John. He's only slightly taller than her, with grey eyes and a kind smile.

Bonnie can only watch, agape, as Klaus and John proceed to show Hazel the fish they've caught, discussing how the river was high today and cleaner than last year, and how they'd seen otters and wild turkeys

Her gaze settles on the hybrid. He's wearing a grey t-shirt with his characteristic necklaces, and some dusty jeans. There's mud on his boots and color in his cheeks.

 _Klaus likes fishing?_

He sees her staring and raises his eyebrows. "Slept well?"

"Like the dead," she retorts.

"You two, go wash up so we can eat." Hazel shoos the men away and sets a basket of rolls down in front of Bonnie with some butter and jelly. "Here you go dear, you look hungry."

"Thank you-,"

Bonnie takes a bite out of one, then another. The tart, sweet plum-jelly is exactly what she's been craving. She manages three rolls and a generous helping of blueberries before it happens. Her stomach turns, bile rises in her throat, and she's rushing down the hallway to the nearest bathroom.

* * *

She runs the faucet and waits. But the nausea passes as quickly as it came and she feels normal, even hungry again.

This is the third time this week. It can't be a stomach bug, it's been too long-

-her senses are flooded with memory: musky cologne and the gleam of a varsity jacket. Oh no.

No no no NO.

 _Jake._

Her legs feel numb, and she struggles to stay standing. A thousand frantic thoughts are pummeling through her head. That night with Jake was almost two months ago. But they'd used a condom! She'd insisted. And yet, she can't remember when her last period was. And she's been tired for weeks now, but with everything going on she'd hardly had time to worry about a little exhaustion and stomach-sickness. _Oh God_. And now she is out in the middle of nowhere with _Klaus_ of all people -

\- the door swings open and he's standing there, looking her up and down. She doesn't need the mirror to tell her she looks a fright, all wild-eyed and shaking.

"What on _earth's_ the matter with you?"

It's too much, suddenly. The house, the nice people, Klaus at the center of it all. There's a sound like water in her ears. She can hear herself start to laugh, a raw, wincing sound like eggshells cracking.

She can't stop.

* * *

He smells like sun and leather, on anyone else she would even _like_ it. But Klaus has her arm in a vice-like grip, and she's struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride.

He's marched her all the way to the riverbank before she manages to pull away from him.

"You will stop these hysterics, witch."

" _Hysterics_?"

The mad laughter is fading, and cold terrifying anxiety marches in its wake.

"I realize the nature of our departure from Mystic Falls was far from ideal-,"

"Far from- you're _unbelievable_."

She storms off. She wants to put her head underwater and lose sight of everything for one blissful second.

She just needs to think, to breathe.

Bonnie walks across the small wooden bridge and stops halfway. He's following close behind, he probably expects she'll try to jump in the river.

If only it were that easy.

She grips the wooden railing in an effort to still her shaking. Below her, the swirl and rush of the water is inexorable.

She could take a pregnancy test, but deep down, in the place she'd called intuition before words like "witch" and "magic" and "vampire" were part of her life, she knows the truth.

"Come now, love, this is hardly necessary. Your friends are safe, you are safe, and you're about to feast on the best fry-bread this side of the midwest. Let's go back inside, hmm?" his voice is warm, coaxing even. But she knows better. He needs her to be calm and normal so Hazel and John aren't concerned.

The maddening absurdity that such people could care for Klaus, while she's-

\- she can't finish the thought. The sheer hopelessness of her situation threatens to engulf. Who could she call? Where could she run to? This isn't Jeremy's baby, so why would the Gilberts help? Her chest tightens, like someone's standing on it.

Klaus puts a hand on her shoulder, turning her not ungently to face him.

"We are leaving before dark. You need only pretend to tolerate me for a few more hours. Afterwards-,"

" _What_ , Klaus? Afterwards what? You'll take me fishing? I'll magically forget everything about you and we'll be Facebook friends?

She knows her control is slipping but it feels too good to stop now. It's easier, it's such a _relief_ , to fling these words at him.

"You just play with people's lives because you're _bored_ , just like you're playing with those people's lives in there by letting them think you're an actual human being- "

"Oh that's laughable. Really, it is. Because no one's ever played with your life, have they? No one's ever treated your existence like a bargaining chip to protect their own interests, certainly not anyone you call _friend_."

"That's different! I was trying to protect people -,"

"And who's protecting you, hmm? Getting you out of Mystic Falls was easier than taking candy from a child, or perhaps I missed the legion that showed up to prevent you from leaving."

They are so close now she has to crane her neck to meet his gaze. " _I_ kept them away, it was _my_ choice. If it wasn't for you-,"

"Oh be honest, love, you're not angry with _me_. I'm just a convenient target. You're angry that they didn't try to stop you."

His words are like stones rippling a watery surface. Bonnie clenches her fists, her magic pulling and chomping at the reins.

"You have _no idea_ what you're talking about."

She turns on her heel but he catches her elbow and whips her around. "You are not walking away from this, witch."

" _Let me go_."

He smiles, eyes goading her, "You _know_ I'm right. Now go on, tell the truth, and shame the devil-,"

"I'm _pregnant_ you asshole!"

If Bonnie had told him she was a leprechaun he couldn't have looked more dumbstruck.

"There, there's your _truth_. I'm pregnant, I'm eighteen years old, I have no money to my name, my friends are-," her voice cracks and magic slips from beneath her fingers. The wind rises to a strong gust, whipping through her hair.

"Bonnie-," he warns, glancing down at the water.

She yanks her arm away with a viciousness that surprises them both. The river is roaring, bubbling like a cauldron. " - and I'm stuck with _you_ , of all people. _God_. What a sick joke. Have you ever cared about anything but yourself in your whole miserable life you _selfish jerk_ -"

She never hears his reply.

The bridge gives out under their feet, and the river opens her boiling arms to receive them.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So first off, I'm absolutely floored by your reviews! I've never gotten so many reviews for a chapter before and I'm a bit overwhelmed, so thank you all. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, so hopefully it's a mutually satisfying experience._

 _ **PSA:** On a more serious note, some of you may know the Standing Rock Sioux nation is currently fighting to stop construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. The pipeline would not only disrupt their ancestral lands but threaten the Missouri River which, aside from being of deep spiritual and historical significance to many indigenous nations, is one of the cleanest and safest river systems left in the United States. If you have a minute, I urge you to read up on this issue and, more generally, to contribute when you can to keeping your local rivers clean and safe. _

_Until next time, thanks for all your support._


	3. Chapter 3: falling is like this

_**A/N:** Before I say anything else, just need to clear this up for folks asking in the reviews: Klaus is not the biological father of Bonnie's baby. I apologize if this wasn't more clear in the first two chapters, but Jake (the OC that's mentioned) is the bio-father. However, this doesn't mean Klaus won't end up being the baby's daddy for all intents and purposes. This fic is about found families and overcoming familial trauma, therefore the focus is not genetic inheritance but rather the choices we make despite that inheritance. Hope nobody feels misled!_

 _Also,_ _I know many of you are probably already reading these, but in case you aren't, here're some great new Klonnie fics that are a must-read:_

 _"Hell With You" and "The Punisher" by the fudge is grumpy_  
 _"Truth Teller" by TheHedgeRider_  
 _"Adventures of a Bennett Witch and the Original Hybrid" by lilac17 (this one's a babyfic!)_

 _All of these are published on FF dot net. Do read and show these talented writers some love!_

 _Okay, I'm done. This chapter is the most action-based Klonnie thing I have ever written, and...the wackiest? So, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Hope y'all enjoy!_

* * *

" _Crossings are never undertaken all at once, and never once and for all."_ \- M Jacqui Alexander

* * *

She's face down on his chest, a fact that takes a few seconds to register before she scrambles off.

Or tries to.

She doesn't get very far with a twisted ankle. Bonnie rolls awkwardly off the hybrid, wincing as she lands on her back.

Dark trees tower around them, hiding the sky from view. There's a river roaring far away, like a mother lamenting her lost children.

Klaus groans, rising to a sitting position. "Where the hell are we?" He rubs the side of his head, and his hand comes away covered in blood. " _What did you do?_ "

"Nothing!" she protests, moving her wet hair out of her face, "one minute I was yelling at you, next thing we're in the river. Why didn't you tell me that bridge was old?"

"As if I could've gotten a word in edgewise."

"I actually remember you getting several words in," she retorts, then frowns, "wait...why are you still bleeding?"

Klaus touches the wound on his head. Blood is trickling down his neck and staining the neckline of his grey t-shirt. He stands shakily and tries to move with vamp-speed, but it's gone. He swears in some strange language and takes stock of his surroundings.

" _Witch_ , if this is your doing-,"

"I didn't do anything!" she repeats, supporting herself against a tree. "I don't even know where we are-,"

Klaus gives her an impatient look, "We are clearly in some kind of liminal space. Pockets of ruptured Time, hidden at crossroads and bridges... didn't you read _anything_ in that Grimoire of yours?"

"I was a little busy," she gritted out, "looking for a spell to kill you. And if you know _so much_ about them, why'd we end up here?"

An almost comical scowl mars his face before a strange sound makes them both jump. A sudden piercing cry, like a bird and yet, too loud for any normal sized bird.

There's a scuttling. Something moving towards them at great speed. On many, many legs.

Klaus grabs her by the wrist and tugs her along. She stumbles and nearly falls.

"My ankle-,"

He mutters a curse and bends to pick her up. Bonnie shrinks away.

"You can't carry me _and_ run."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Another wild shriek fills the sky. Bonnie hears the snapping and swishing of trees making way for _something_.

"Right, let's brainstorm on the journey," Klaus wraps an arm around her leg and hoists her over his shoulder like she's a sack of potatoes.

And he's off with her into the forest before she can say a word.

* * *

"Put me down."

The hybrid grunts. "Simon of Cyrene wished to put down the cross, but the Roman legionaries had other plans." His voice, though sardonic, is strained. Evidently his vampire strength has taken a hit as well.

He had run and then walked deep into the trees, until the strange, beastly sounds had faded. But he still kept trudging through the undergrowth, one arm holding her in place, the other breaking low-hanging branches out of their way. There's a dogged, steady pace to him that makes Bonnie wonder if he was accustomed to physical labor as a human.

"I think we can take a break -," she shakes her head to clear the dizziness from being upside down, "- and I'm probably gonna throw up."

That does it. He pauses in a small clearing and sets her down. Bonnie staggers, leaning heavily against a nearby tree trunk. When the throbbing eases from her temples, she hops over to a fallen log and sits gingerly down.

"Don't get too comfortable," he growls, flexing his shoulders and eyeing her warily. His grey t-shirt is stained with blood and dirt, his hair unruly like from a lover's fingers, and sweat runs down his neck. She has never seen him this disheveled, not even the night she almost killed him. Deep beneath her shock and exhaustion, Bonnie idly notes that disheveled _suits_ him.

She shakes off that thought just as quickly. _Just hold onto your sanity a bit longer, Bennett_.

"That's not going to be a problem with you around," she retorts, then lifts her swollen ankle out of her battered Toms. "I need your help."

He raises an eyebrow, "Have you forgotten my vampire abilities are null and void here?"

"No I haven't, smartass. _God_ , you people are annoying," she huffs, "I just need you to pop this ankle back into place."

"And have your screams bring that beast down upon us? I think not, love."

"I _won't_ scream."

Klaus merely scoffs, "Brave show, sweetheart. But I think I trust my weary shoulder more."

She narrows her eyes, "You know, for someone who thinks I'm too self-sacrificing you seem really determined to play the victim right now."

She notes his startled look with triumph. "Fine," she mumbles. Without giving him a chance to respond, she reaches down and grabs her foot.

"Stop-,"

A sickening click, and the bone is back in the socket. She gasps, sweat breaking out on her brow. But it's done.

Replacing her shoe, Bonnie stands and tries a few steps. It hurts like hell, but it's bearable. She can walk, run if she needs to. She's a Bennett witch. She's endured worse before. And she's tired of being treated like a child.

She limps past a frowning Klaus.

"Come on _Simon_."

* * *

They decide to find the river again. If the water brought them here, maybe it could take them back.

The trees are thick and suffocating, blocking out the sun but trapping heat. And yet, for such a lush environment, there's no sign of a single living creature.

Except for the ominous scuttling and swishing they hear at intervals, but not close enough to be seen.

Yet.

She's bone-tired, her throat parched. Klaus maintains a stoic pace, but eventually even he slows down.

"Are we there yet?" Bonnie quips.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, "I can't smell the water."

A flash of inspiration strikes her. "Klaus, you can't smell it because your vampire abilities are gone - ,"

"Yes I'm aware of that, love," he snaps, exhaustion and bitterness cracking in his voice.

"Let me finish. You can't vamp out and I can't do magic, because both those things are drawn from a source of power that doesn't exist here. My magic is drawn from nature, vampires were created from an imbalance of nature. None of that matters here."

"And?"

She feels almost giddy, "Your _wolf_ isn't. You can shift, and your wolf can track us to the river."

A strange look crosses his face but he recovers quickly, "A pretty theory, sweetheart, but werewolves are also creatures of nature, and therefore bound to the same rules."

Bonnie shakes her head, "Yes and no. The wolf is a part of _you_ , it's who _you_ are. Nothing can alter that." And she adds, because she can't resist, "Oh and by the way, I read that in my Grimoire."

To her dismay, Klaus doesn't seem impressed by her plan. In fact, he doesn't say much at all. Scowling, he starts to clear branches out of their way again.

"Let's keep moving."

* * *

She loses track of time. The forest feels endless, tangled and implacable and viciously green. She can't remember any other color.

Every muscle in her body is screaming for relief, until she can no longer take it.

Just when she thinks she'll collapse, Klaus stops and leads them to the shelter of a huge tree.

"Here," he says roughly, gesturing at the large raised roots, "we'll have some cover."

Bonnie sinks gratefully into their shelter, lying flat on her back. After her hours of exertion, the damp earth cushions her like a pillow-top mattress.

She closes her eyes briefly, trying to capture the smells and sounds that had greeted her just that morning. Coffee. Lemon verbena.

When she opens them, Klaus is seated next to her, bare-chested, elbows resting on his raised knees. His sweat-soaked shirt lies on the ground.

She notices a tattoo on his arm, a ship with a prow shaped like a wolf's head, and wonders if he drew it himself. There's so much she doesn't know about Klaus. Back in the regular world, all that mattered was his power to hurt people she loved. But here, out of time and place, Bonnie finds herself _curious_.

"Why did you make me come with you?"

He shifts slightly and she notices another tattoo, a flock of birds disappearing over his right shoulder.

"That hardly matters."

"It matters to me," she sits up on her elbows, "I'd like to know what I'm getting into. And you can spare me the poetry about luxuries and travel. I know you have a reason. You _always_ have a reason."

He reclines against the tree now, revealing more of his tattoos, and and a casual expanse of toned chest. He seems as indolent and assured in his flesh as if he were a wolf incarnate.

"My reasons matter not, witch, because when we escape this accursed forest, you will return to Mystic Falls."

She sits up fully now. "Just like that? Why?" It's almost an accusation.

"Did you or did you not inform me that you are... _with child_?" he lingers amusedly on the archaic phrase.

Bonnie feels herself grow cold all over. She had pushed that bit of knowledge away, had almost forgotten. Now it crashes over her anew. "W-what does that have to do with anything?"

He rolls his eyes, "While your fortitude is admirable, and you are an extraordinarily powerful witch, my plans don't involve doctor's appointments and dealing with hormonal episodes."

Something about his tone incites her defensive ire."So you admit I'm an asset but you just can't deal with my being pregnant. A thousand years old and _that's_ the sexist excuse you wanna fall back on?"

He frowns slightly, then looks her over, "And since when are you so eager to stay in my company? I thought you'd leap at the chance to reunite with dear old Jeremy. Nothing binds a man's love like his offspring, legally at least." There's a sneer in his voice, and Bonnie wants to curl into herself. His words, so casually strewn, cut like glass.

"Go to hell, Klaus." Her retort falls weak and tired. She huddles away from him and hugs her knees to her chest.

At length he says, "I suppose you will marry. No doubt Gilbert will abandon school and take up carpentry. _You_ will try and fail at knitting. Eventually, when the gossip fades, you will blend in with the rest of them, settle down -,"

"He's not the father," she snaps. She's angry at him, but angrier still at the picture he paints, the calm domestic facade that would never be hers, the small town simplicity she had buried on her sixteenth birthday when her Grams told her what she was. That anger rises in her throat now, twists her voice, "I'll disappoint my dad, who knows where my mother is, my friends will go away to college and _maybe_ remember to send postcards, and everyone and their dog will call me a _slut_ for stepping out on _dear old_ Jeremy, even though he- ," her pride prevents her from finishing that part of the sentence.

For the second time since they fell in the river, Klaus looks surprised. Then, a lazy smirk appears on his face. "Well thank goodness you aren't bringing another Jeremy Gilbert into this world. But tell me, who _is_ the fortunate chap?"

"That's none of your b-,"

This time the shrill cry makes them both cover their ears. Something like wind is moving the trees, snapping branches and crushing leaves.

Klaus is on his feet in an instant. Bonnie follows. He grabs her elbow and tugs her along. They're running now, and each moment is agony on her ankle. Bonnie grits her teeth and uses Klaus' hand for support.

The Thing is getting closer, she can hear the strange clicks.

Just when she thinks she can run no longer, the tree line gives way, and they are at the edge of a wide ravine. Below them, the river thunders like a drum.

"Look!" she points at the rickety wooden bridge, a dilapidated twin of the one that had delivered them here. And somehow she knows that if they return there, if they return to the river, everything will be alright.

They jog towards freedom.

And then, a nightmare bursts from the trees.

Bonnie sees a scorpion tail, and hundreds of black, scaly legs, and an eyeless hole where the face should be.

 _It_ charges.

Some deep-rooted instinct kicks in. "Trees!" she yells at Klaus before seizing his hand and rushing to the lowest hanging branch. Bonnie swings herself up, grateful for her years in gymnastics. Klaus follows.

The Thing shrieks again, and the ear-splitting sound is almost their undoing. She nearly loses her footing, but quickly finds it again. Her heart is in her throat.

The branches take them higher.

At last, they find a suitable perch.

The Thing claws at the tree, tail lashing, but its strange armored body cannot make the climb.

Bonnie leans into the trunk, panting heavily. Her ankle is on fire. She doubts she could even walk on it now.

"What the hell is that?" she gasps, pointing down.

"You tell me, since you are so well versed in magical creatures."

"Really? Sarcasm, at a time like this?"

"I am half unclothed and hiding in a tree like a schoolboy. Sarcasm is all that remains of my dignity, love."

"I should push you off this branch."

She meant it as a jab, but his face clears and there's a sudden fierce look in his eyes, and the reality of their plight sinks in. She _could_ push him off, she has more leverage than he does right now. The Thing would devour him, and she could make a dash for safety.

"Go ahead, love," he challenges in a low voice.

"No."

Her vehemence startles them both.

"You saved me earlier, even though you were a jerk about it. I won't repay that by killing you."

His eyes seem to pierce through her, as though taking her measure. "Nobility? At a time like this?"

"Some of us have more to our personalities than sarcasm." She narrows her eyes, "Guess you're going to throw _me_ off."

Klaus grins, "Let's call that Plan B for now."

" _Comforting_."

* * *

The sun climbs no higher nor sinks lower in the sky. Time has no meaning here, no rules and limits. Everything is one, long, maddening day.

Her lips and throat are so dry they feel like cracked earth. Klaus seems to be faring only slightly better.

"Should've listened to me, and turned into a wolf," she croaks.

"I can't."

His words hang in the air.

She stares at him, dumbfounded, as he looks off into the distance. "I cannot...shift at will, only when the moon is full. The Spirits, it seems, have found another way to tamper with my birthright."

There's something in his voice she's never heard before, a sharp, bleak quality like a dead field in the wintertime.

"That's why you need a witch..."

"I _need_ no one. A witch is a means to an end, so I can wrest back my freedom from the Spirits." There's a fierceness in his tone now, sharp and bright as a sword. His hands have a death grip on the branch beneath him. All at once, Bonnie feels a new kind of emotion. Not pity, not anger, but a sting of empathy.

She remembers her Biology class about wolves. They are social animals, living and hunting in packs. Their very nature stands in opposition to the selfish solitude of the vampire. Klaus might find a way to conquer this newest obstacle on the path to full hybrid status, but reconciling the two sides of his nature seemed about as likely as her living a regular small-town life.

Bonnie thinks of John and Hazel's idyllic farmhouse, how surreal it all seemed.

Klaus may not belong there, but neither did she.

Suddenly sad, she looks away from him.

"Good luck." She adds, lightly, "Hope you find the right witch for the job."

* * *

"Look." Klaus points below them. The Thing is lying down, its tail wrapped around the tree, its scaly back rising and falling in deep breaths.

Bonnie scans the area. Even if they manage to climb down without incident, they probably wouldn't make it to the bridge without Thing waking up.

"I wonder where its vital organs are located," Klaus muses, flexing his fingers.

"No way, you're not strong enough. You'll just make it angry."

"And what do you propose we do?" he snaps, "ask politely for a ride to the bridge?"

Bonnie glances down again. The beast also has two horns growing where its head should be. A wild idea clicks into place.

"Klaus, that's _exactly_ what we're going to do."

* * *

"If this ends with your little brains pureed on the forest floor -," Klaus mumbles as Bonnie maneuvers over to him.

"Your idea was to _punch_ a hellbeast so-,"

He growls but leans forward like she'd told him. Her ankle would hamper any attempts to climb down, but a _dismount_ only needs one good leap. Bonnie says a silent prayer of thanks for the endless afternoons of cheerleading practice she and Elena had been subject to.

Wrapping her hands around the thick branch they were sitting on, she rises slowly to her feet. Pain stabs her ankle and calf, but she forces herself to focus on standing and grasping the branch above her head.

Her legs are trembling, sweat running down her back and neck. She bites her lip, trying to summon her composure.

Just when she thinks her limbs will buckle, Klaus' hands descend on her shins, steadying her. He doesn't speak, but a quiet strength flows from his touch that she doesn't question or consider, just accepts.

Deep breath in. Bonnie curls her lower body up to the branch she's gripping. Klaus gets under her and she carefully balances her feet on his shoulders.

"I can't believe I'm going along with this. The heat must be affecting my brain."

"Hush! You'll mess up the choreography." Her voice falters a little.

She takes another breath, bends her knees and prepares to jump.

But Klaus is still holding on to her feet. "It appears I underestimated you again, little witch," he says softly.

She thinks he may just have paid her a compliment.

Bonnie closes her eyes. Pictures a football field and her friends cheering in the stands. The smell of grass in the sun.

She jumps.

There's a brief moment when she feels hollow inside, like she is already bones and dust.

Then, muscle memory takes hold. She curls her body into a ball and surrenders to gravity. Her limbs open at the right time. Any other day, she would have landed on the beast's back graceful as a butterfly. But she's only working with one good ankle, and so she collapses on the back of its armor, legs splayed wide, clinging for dear life.

The Thing rears and shrieks, and Bonnie thinks her ears might burst. Flattening herself against the cold scales, she crawls to grab hold of the horns. The creature reeks of decay, and she almost gags.

"Bonnie!" she hears Klaus yell.

Thing is rearing wildly. She feels her grip slipping. Bonnie closes her eyes. _Please_.

Just then, she feels Klaus behind her. He has managed to clamber on. His arms reach around her so they're both grasping the horns.

He yanks the horns and kicks with his knee. The Thing takes off like a runaway horse, at a mad, skittering pace, desperate to throw them off.

When they pass the bridge, Klaus takes hold of her, pulls her against his chest and rolls them off. They land in a melee of limbs.

He's up in a flash, half-carrying her to the middle of the bridge. The structure is old and worm-eaten, the railings gone.

The Thing is now scuttling back towards them, a rabid foam dripping from its lipless mouth.

"We have to jump," Bonnie gasps, almost out of breath.

The river roars beneath.

He nods, and takes her hand. They stand on the edge.

For a split second Bonnie glances over her shoulder and sees the Thing so close she could reach out and brush its rows of teeth. Its throat gleams black as night, and she imagines disappearing into that night, like into a great smothering blanket.

It would be so much easier than jumping again.

But suddenly she's upside down, dangling over Klaus' shoulder.

He leaps and takes her with him.

When the force of their descent untangles them, Bonnie doesn't think, just fumbles and reaches for him until they're chest to chest.

Her head fits under his chin. His arms enclose her in a tight circle.

For three seconds of a free fall, they're just two bodies holding on to each other.

She expects the water to shatter her bones. Instead, the river is soft, soft as an embrace.

* * *

She's face down on his bare chest, his arms are still wrapped around her. Bonnie registers this fact but can't find the strength to move.

They are both wet and muddy, washed up on the riverbank. Her clothes are plastered to her body, and her hair trails web-like over the tattooed swallows on his shoulder.

"You weren't going to jump," Klaus murmurs.

The sun is still morning-soft. Their strange ordeal has only cost them a few minutes of this world, the world they have returned to. A passing breeze makes her shiver.

"You didn't give me a choice."

She waits for his reply but there's only the sound of birds, the soft rush of water, and his warm heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"Hazel will insist we stay another night before getting on the road," he then says almost casually, adjusting her as if he has no intentions of getting up right away.

"I thought - I thought I was going back to Mystic Falls...,"

He doesn't dignify that question with an answer.

He has made this choice for her too.

She thinks about asking him to release his grasp. She thinks about trying to wriggle free. But something nameless holds them both in place.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** __Till next time!_


	4. Chapter 4: here with you

_**A/N:** Sorry for the gap in updates, but the semester picked up pace and the muse got flighty. I also dealt with some crippling self doubt about steering this story before I rallied and decided to forge ahead with the vision I have. Thank you for all your support and reviews, they mean the world! _

* * *

She doesn't know how long she's been asleep when the truck comes to a halt. Her body is curled against the door, feet drawn up, arms folded, cheek resting on the window. It's dark outside, and she's barely oriented herself before Klaus opens the passenger side door.

He offers her a hand which she reluctantly uses to climb out.

"And how is your ankle?" His grip is warm and solid, his words laced with just enough concern, that Bonnie has to battle her sleepy, exhausted senses from swaying into that warmth and solidity.

She pulls her hand away. "It's fine. Where are we anyway?"

A river flows nearby. She can make out the shape of dark mountains encircling the valley, a sky speckled with more stars than she's ever seen in her life, and trees crowded thick and close.

"Crescent Hills, Montana," Klaus fails to mask his contempt for the trite name. He leads her up a stone pathway. "These mountains were once home to some of the most powerful wolf packs on the continent."

She shivers a little in the cool air. "And we're here because...?"

"My father's pack was made here." Klaus doesn't venture more information.

Bonnie glances around at the vista of forest. Her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, can make out small lights in the distance, campfires clustered among the shadowy trees.

"There's people...in the woods."

"Scavenger wolves," Klaus growls, "they will be gone soon enough. With your help of course."

"How am I going to help with that?" she asks warily, looking at the those flickering lights, wondering if feral eyes were looking back.

"A simple Land Binding spell should make the terrain untenable for them," Klaus moves a branch out of their way and a giant ranch-house looms before them, big enough for a hotel. He ushers her in the towering oak door, beneath the deer antlers curving like branches. Bonnie feels small and overwhelmed, hemmed in by mountains and forest and hidden eyes and now, this cavernous, empty dwelling.

"I built this place many decades ago, in anticipation of breaking the curse. I had not planned on abandoning it for quite so long," he says, seemingly lost in a moment of time long before she even existed.

Bonnie takes in the massive wooden staircase and hallways, the rooms stretching out further than she can see. Klaus _built_ this? Usually she would've assumed he compelled a crew to carry out the task, but something in his voice, some undercurrent of quiet possessiveness and pride, hints otherwise.

Still, that realization does little to dull the looming emptiness of this place. She can see the outline of hunting trophies in the dim light, strange sentinels that feel almost alive.

"You may choose your room. Although, be warned the western wing does get a little drafty at night," he informs her, walking back to the door.

"Where are you going?" Bonnie cringes at how _tiny_ her voice sounds. So what if she's going to be alone for a bit in a place that looks like a setting for a Stephen King novel? She's _fine_. She will be _fine_.

Klaus grins a little and she hates him for that, just like she hated him for letting her lie there on his chest after the river washed them ashore. "I thought you might like your luggage for the night," he says dryly.

"I'll help," she strides towards him.

"Now now, love. I might be a scoundrel but I do have _some_ manners." He continues when she arches a quizzical eyebrow, "A woman in your _condition_ should hardly be carrying heavy weight around."

Bonnie fixes him with a weary glare. These little comments about her pregnancy, usually accompanied by holding a door for her, offering her his jacket or inquiring about her appetite, peppered throughout their two-day drive to Montana, were starting to unsettle her. There's a sense of mocking amusement underlying his gestures that she finds extremely irritating; like he thinks her predicament a particularly subtle joke she's sprung on herself.

"I'm pregnant, Klaus, not an invalid."

He holds up his hands in a gesture of innocence, though a smile still dances in his eyes, "I was merely trying to reassure you that chivalry isn't dead."

"Looks pretty dead to me," she mutters, brushing past him. "And you can stop, by the way."

"Stop what, love?" he falls in step beside her as they retrace their path to the truck.

"This whole Nice Guy routine, checking on me constantly...Just, drop it ok? I know you don't mean any of it," she adds under her breath.

She waits for him to open the back of the truck but he leans against the door instead, tilting his head and giving her a curious look. "Does it bother you you that someone is aware of your needs? Or does it bother you that it's _me_?"

" _You_ bother me period," she huffs. "Just open the truck, Klaus."

He grins and complies. Bonnie gathers up her luggage and starts heading back to the house.

"Just out of curiosity," Klaus begins in a casual kind of voice that sets her teeth on edge, "how _did_ it happen?"

She rolls her eyes as they start climbing the stairs, "Did your parents never explain where babies come from or...?"

He gives a disarming laugh, "I was simply wondering how a practical, level-headed woman like yourself finds herself in such a position. What did he _say_ , this mysterious bloke?"

"Well, he opened with _not_ threatening my friends."

Klaus sounds scandalized. "Did he say _anything_ worth remembering?"

Bonnie stays quiet as they reach the landing. Truthfully she doesn't remember her and Jake talking very much. She hadn't wanted to stop and think. She just wanted to feel _wanted_ , to forget that Jeremy had chosen a dead girl over her.

"Although," the hybrid continues, "I suppose a landed fish seems eloquent compared to Gilbert Jr. Your taste in men leaves does leave a great deal to be desired, love."

" _You_ want to pass judgement on _my_ lovelife?" she scoffs in disbelief. "When was the last time you even had a date with a woman who _wasn't_ your dinner?"

He lifts his brows and there's a thoughtful quirk to his lips, like he's conceding her question. Then a glint appears in his eye. "By that definition, you and I have been on a date since we left Mystic Falls."

" _Right_."

Bonnie swallows another tart response. She's starting to enjoy verbally sparring with him too much for her own comfort. The long hours and miles between them and her hometown, plus the shock of discovering her pregnancy, has whittled away at her emotional resilience. She needs to be alone with her thoughts and regroup, figure out how to get Klaus what he wants so she can deal with her own life.

She starts down the hallway, not bothering to bid him goodnight.

She can feel his eyes on her for a few moments before he disappears back down the stairs.

* * *

She finds a modest sized room with an attached bathroom. The lighting flickers a little, and the water runs brown for a few moments before clearing. She makes a face, wishing Klaus had hired real plumbers and electricians when he decided to build his own version of a cabin in the woods.

Still, any shower feels like a luxury after two days in a truck. Bonnie changes into pjs and starts combing her hair.

Her mind paces like a caged animal, and the blinking missed-calls and texts on her phone gnaw at her until she puts the device out of sight.

She can't talk to anyone back home until she figures out what she's going to do about her... 'condition' as Klaus called it.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, Bonnie walks over and lifts up her oversize t-shirt. Her stomach is still flat, she still looks the same. She tries to picture herself going about her life with a round belly, waddling in those terrible Crocs she's seen on other pregnant women.

There's something almost comically unreal about that image.

Her anxiety drains away, leaving a heavy, hollow feeling. _What am I thinking? I don't know crap about being a mom_.

It's not as though she's had many examples either. Abby Bennett had disappeared when she was five years old.

She lets her t-shirt fall back and resumes untangling her hair. Tomorrow, she'd look up local clinics and find the nearest abortion provider. Money wouldn't be an issue, she's sure Klaus would rather the witch he's 'employing' not be pregnant. He'd said as much when they were trapped together in that strange place.

Bonnie starts braiding her hair when she sees the flash of movement in the window behind her. A face vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

She screams.

She pulls open her door and rushes into the dark hallway...smack against a bare chest.

She almost screams again before realizing it's Klaus, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Easy, love," he pushes wet hair away from her face, "you alright?"

"T-there was someone - my window -,"

"Yes, we have an intruder. I heard them a few seconds ago."

"This place needs a security system," she manages shakily. He has an arm around her and she sags against him a little. Later, she'll deal with the fact that she voluntarily lingered in Klaus Mikaelson's grasp. But right now, she huddles infinitesimally closer to the thing that will keep her safe.

He cocks his head, listening, "They are on the roof." A grin appears on his face. "Just as I was craving a midnight meal too. Wait here." He gives her waist a light squeeze before disappearing down the corridor.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This is a short chapter because it's more a of bridge to situations that will blossom later. Hope it was still enjoyable!_


	5. Chapter 5: lullaby

**_Mystic Falls, 13 years earlier_**

 _She would spend all day outdoors if her mother would let her._

 _At five years old, Bonnie loved nothing more than running out in green fields and climbing every available tree. Lying on the warm earth calmed her and filled her with a thrilling joy. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes and touched the grass, she could feel every little creature scurrying above and below the soil._

 _Other kids had invisible friends. She had Nature, and she was everywhere._

 _Much to Abby Bennett's chagrin._

 _Her mother was always stuffing her into lacy frocks and church shoes, tying up her hair in ribbons and telling her how pretty she looked, and frowning if she came home with dirty socks or a missing button._

 _She hated when her mom frowned._

 _Abby had a smile that lit up Bonnie's world, and Bonnie tried her best to sit still in fancy dresses so her mother would beam at her and call her "flower girl"._

" _There's my little flower girl". And Bonnie would sit up straighter. Feel better and more important._

 _Which is why she was sitting quietly that day after school, even though she longed to run and jump with Elena and Caroline on the playground. Her new dress was cornflower blue and flared in delicate layers at the waist. Abby had tied her hair with a matching ribbon and chosen pale yellow socks to go with her red lacquer shoes._

 _Bonnie wanted her mom to see her seated there, good and proper the way she liked. Abby always picked her up from school, and sometimes if she was in a good mood she would buy Bonnie an ice cream cone._

 _She waited and waited while the playground slowly emptied. And it was Rudy, not Abby, who finally walked up the pathway to get her._

" _Where's mom?"_

 _Rudy didn't answer, and that silence was like quicksand sucking her down._

 _When they got home, she refused to change clothes or take the ribbons out of her hair. She went to sleep in the last outfit her mother dressed her in. If she nestled into the sleeve hard enough, she could still catch a faint note of Abby's perfume._

* * *

Perhaps it's some spark of childhood rebellion, but Bonnie doesn't stay put as Klaus instructed. She runs downstairs when the sound of footsteps disappear off the roof, hurrying out the front door.

She hears a voice, a girl's voice. Klaus is holding a small figure to his side, marching away from the house. His abductee kicks and spits and _growls_.

"Put me down asshole!"

"I mean to. _Away_ from my property," Klaus drawls in a contemptuous tone. Bonnie sees him freeze abruptly before dropping the girl none too gently on the grass. He holds up his forearm in amusement. She'd sunk her teeth into him. "Not a wise decision, _scavenger_."

Her green hoodie falls away, revealing a mop of curly hair and a heart shaped face. Young, maybe twelve or thirteen. Blood glistens in her teeth. "I'm _not_ a scavenger."

Bonnie makes to approach the girl but suddenly the same young face contorts into a beastly grimace. The eyes flash yellow and her whole body jerks like a horrid puppet on a string. Nails turning into claws dig into the earth.

She's never seen a wolf in the throes of shifting before. Horror and pity war inside her as she watches the girl writhing in agony.

Bonnie looks to Klaus. He comes to stand between her and the girl, his face is unreadable in the half light.

"Do something," Bonnie pleads.

"There's nothing to be done, witch, except prevent her from attacking us."

"Prevent her from- _she's just a kid_."

His eyes flash, "She is a wolf."

"So are you!" she flings back.

They lock into a silent battle of wills that's interrupted by a sick, fleshy sound. The girl is tearing into her own hand, savaging the limb in an effort to stem the transformation.

"Oh my god...," Bonnie whispers, as the metallic odor of blood rises in the air. Curiously, despite his earlier remark about midnight meals, Klaus does not move to drain the girl. Instead he stands there, a strange, heavy look on his face.

* * *

 _The day after Abby disappeared, Rudy let her stay home from school. The babysitter, a college student named Ashley who was more interested in reading for class than playing with her five year old charge, said nothing when Bonnie ate her breakfast cereal and brushed her teeth still wearing her blue dress from the previous day._

 _It wasn't until lunchtime that Ashley noticed Bonnie's crumpled clothes and suggested changing. Bonnie refused. What if Abby came back and she wasn't wearing her pretty new dress? Ashley didn't understand, nobody did. Finally the older girl put her foot down. She took Bonnie by the elbow and tried leading her upstairs._

 _And then it happened. A frisson like a mothwing, tearing. A small scream. Bonnie looked up and Ashley was sliding down the kitchen wall where something,_ _something_ _, had flung her clean across the room._

 _The next moments were a blur. Ashley locked herself in the kitchen. Bonnie sat by the stairs, shaking from head to toe. She'd never felt like this. Like she was a leaf in the wind. She didn't know how long she sat there until the door opened and Sheila Bennett flew in._

 _Her Grams approached her quietly. Bonnie wrapped her arms around herself. "She wanted me to change my dress. But Mama wouldn't like that. I told her so."_

" _Oh, honey." Sheila crouched down in front of her, her voice low and comforting. "You don't have to change. But...can I touch your forehead, real quick? It'll stop your shaking."_

 _Bonnie curled up tighter. She tasted something wet and coppery on her lips. Sheila's eyes grew wide._

" _My head hurts."_

" _I know, baby. But I promise, what I do won't hurt at all. In fact, it'll make the pain go away."_

 _Bonnie sniffled. She didn't know what was happening. How did Ashley end up in the kitchen? Why wouldn't her hands and legs stop trembling? Where was Abby? And why was her nose running? Questions and confusion swirled around and throbbed in her head until finally she just gave her Grams a small nod._

" _Close your eyes baby."_

 _She felt Sheila's cool touch on either side of her head. Then the whisper of some words she didn't understand but that sounded like a song. A sweet, soft light washed over her, taking her consciousness with it._

* * *

"We have to do _something_ ," she says, again.

Klaus sneers at her, "Sing her a lullabye why don't you. See if that works."

Bonnie glances at the girl again and feels a stir of memory.

"Hold her arms," she tells Klaus in a low voice.

"What?"

" _Just do it."._

Klaus swears under his breath, but nevertheless does as she asked. He wrests the girl's bloodied hand from her mouth and pins both arms behind her back. The young wolf growls and spits blood.

Bonnie swallows, unclenching her fingers. She kneels slowly in front of the girl. Glaring yellow eyes almost make her falter while Klaus is watches impatiently.

"Get on with it, witch."

The girl bucks and he has to readjust his hold.

"Hush! You're making it worse."

She ignores his contemptuous eye-roll and takes a deep breath. Looks the half-beast girl in the face. And sees not anger pulsing in the yellow eyes, but a desperate, hunted fear.

Bonnie tries to keep her voice as soft as possible, the way she remembered Grams. She takes hold of the girl's temples. "I'm not going to hurt you, I _promise_."

The girl grows still. The spell comes easy a river in springtime, flowing from Bonnie's fingertips and glowing around the young girl's face. When the light fades, she slumps forward.

Bonnie breathes a sigh of relief, while Klaus considers the young wolf in his arms.

* * *

They lay her on one of the couches in the living room and Bonnie fetches her Grimoire for a healing spell. She feels Klaus' eyes on her as she washes the girl's hand before whispering the incantation. The magic speeds up her natural werewolf healing, and soon the skin is smooth as new.

"She'll sleep for a while. When she wakes up hopefully the trigger will have receded."

Klaus raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"What you said about a lullabye reminded me of a spell Grams used," she explains, "it sort of puts the magical energy in your body to sleep, lets your other senses reorient themselves. She'll wake up with a slight headache but otherwise fine."

"You have personal experience with the spell's effects?"

Bonnie shrugs. "When I was a kid...younger than her." She picks up a blanket and carefully covers the small body, tucking in the corners and resting a cushion behind her head. She looks up and meets Klaus' sardonic smile.

"What?"

"I see you are in excellent shape for impending motherhood. Hardly surprising."

She gives him a wary look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He makes an exasperated face. "Your friends. Elena, Caroline, Matt...even _Jeremy_. You were resident mother hen to all, were you not?"

His implicit meaning is clear: her attempts to play nursemaid to those in her life had failed miserably. She glances down at the sleeping girl. There's a stinging warmth in her chest, an ache for things that would never be.

Bonnie straightens and looks him in the eye. "Don't worry, Klaus. I'm not going to be a mother any time soon."

A flicker of something crosses his face. Surprise, maybe. Or doubt. But it's gone before she can capture it and the smooth, faintly amused mask is back.

"I'm gonna sleep down here tonight," she announces. "Just to make sure she's okay. In case she wakes up-,"

He rolls his eyes again. "If you wish to sleep on a settee instead of a perfectly good bed, please be my guest. But Bonnie...," his voice takes on a warning tone, "you will _not_ make this girl one of your pet causes. As soon as she awakes, we send her away. Do I make myself clear?"

"But what if she-,"

"I am not prone to repeating myself, witch."

"Klaus, she's _terrified_. I felt it when I did the spell. What if she's running from something or someone-,"

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

" - and I know you hate children but-,"

His head snaps to attention, "Is _that_ what you think?"

"Well...I mean you're the 'big bad hybrid' or whatever. I thought hating kids came with the territory."

His strange, deep-set gaze looks past her to the girl sleeping on his couch. When his eyes return to Bonnie she feels as though she's glimpsing the terrible vastness of the ocean through a tiny window. There's an uneasy sensation of being _adrift_.

Without another word, he walks past her toward the abandoned fireplace.

* * *

When Bonnie returns downstairs with her blanket and pillow she is surprised to find Klaus still there, poking at a small fire. The wolf girl is sleeping soundly.

Bonnie chooses the small settee adjacent to the couch and facing the fireplace. She settles in, pulling her damp hair into two quick braids. She'd have to rewash and comb it out properly tomorrow.

She gives their guest another glance to make sure all is well. The girl's frame rises and falls with each breath, quiet as a small boat on calm water. If not a scavenger wolf then who was she? What was she afraid of? And what was she running from?

"A child died in my arms once."

Klaus' soft utterance startles her out of her reverie. He's sitting back on his heels, the firelight flickering across the planes of his face and naked chest, his eyes also fixed on the girl.

"It happened quicker than cutting a string. One minute he was breathing, the next he was gone. I was still human then."

As he rises to his feet and retrieves a glass of bourbon from the mantelpiece, the fire-glow limns the contours of his back, revealing what Bonnie hadn't noticed before: a map of scars, twisted and intertwining like branches of a dead tree.

She tries but is unable to wrench her eyes away from the marred skin, the body's malcontented evidence of his former humanity.

Klaus turns to face her. "Whether I hate children or love them, shelter a hundred orphans or drain them dry for my supper, it matters not. The _true_ cruelty, that some beings are both purely innocent and purely powerless, _that_ is something larger than you or I. An equation as inexorable as the rising sun."

The bourbon is slowly emptied down his throat.

His words both repel and comfort her. Everything about who she wants to be _refuses_ to accept such an 'equation'.

And yet, everything she's known of life confirms it.

Bonnie looks down at her hands. Slender palms and long, knob-knuckled fingers. _Hands like your grandmother_ , Sheila once said. Her heart aches at the memory, and she feels small and unmoored all over again.

She pulls the blanket over her shoulders and curls into the settee, letting the snap and crackle of flames wash over her weary senses.

"I keep wondering if there's another way," she muses quietly. "There _has_ to be..."

The hybrid offers no immediate reply. He leans on the mantelpiece and looks down at the small dancing fire, poised and still as any statue. Bonnie's eyes drift across a cartography of scars.

At length when he speaks, his tone is wry and yet somehow, without mockery.

"Well if anyone can puzzle it out, little witch...I'm quite certain it will be you."

* * *

 _ **A/N** : So a couple of things. One, I have a somewhat different take on the "werewolf trigger" as TVD calls it. Hopefully my interpretation will become clearer as the story develops. Two, you may have noticed that this is a fairly slow burn fic. I have lots of Klonnie goodness planned for the future, but I hope the pace isn't too dreary for people. Finally, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wonderful reviews last chapter. I had an incredibly stressful couple of weeks with teaching, writing and getting sick, and your reviews cheered me up immeasurably. Thank you for believing in and supporting the story I want to tell. (Special shoutout to the road dogs, y'all know who you are.)_


	6. Chapter 6: history owes me one

_**A/N:** So I can't believe this story broke a 100 reviews already! This has never happened to me before and I'm humbled, overjoyed and overwhelmed in equal measure. Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who's left reviews and continues to support this little story. This fic means a great deal to me, and so whenever I'm seized with anxiety about whether I'm doing it justice I think of all your kinds words and feel both comforted and reassured. Really, I can't thank you enough. Special shoutout as always to the Klonnie roadogs._

 _I know several people mentioned how sad the last chapter made them, so hopefully this one has a bit of the opposite effect! Fair warning though, as this story builds a found family it's inevitably gonna delve into familial trauma of which Bonnie and Klaus both have heaps. So...prep for some incoming mommy and daddy issues and some sibling issues too, lol. Enjoy loves! xoxox_

* * *

Her name is Monique.

And that's all the information the little wolf volunteers. The three of them share a long and tense silence in the living room while morning light spills through the windows: Bonnie with her hands clasped, darting glances between Monique and Klaus, the former with her arms folded and a deadpan look on her face, the latter getting increasingly impatient.

"How old are you?" Bonnie asks in concern.

There's a slow blink followed by a nonchalant sigh. "Seventeen."

Klaus snorts. "Right. And I am Paul Cézanne."

Monique gives him a disdainful look. Bonnie frowns. "Who's Paul Cezanne?"

The hybrid pinches the bridge of his nose. "I see public education continues to prosper in this _great_ country."

Monique snorts. "Where did _you_ go to school? Hogwarts?"

"Ah, so you _are_ capable of stringing more than two syllables together," Klaus snaps. "Excellent. Now answer the witch's questions and you can be on your merry way."

Monique's eyes widen in something like fear and admiration. "You're a witch?"

"I used a spell on you last night that stopped your trigger and helped you sleep," Bonnie explains gently.

The girl considers this for a moment before a gleam of excitement her eyes. "So...does this mean...did you stop my wolf trigger permanently?"

"No. Your wolf can't be stopped with a simple Energy spell. You'd need a Binding spell...," Bonnie trails off, aware of Klaus' stiffening posture.

"Can you do that? Bind my wolf?"

"I- I don't know how to-."

Hopes dies in Monique's face, replaced by the laconic mask from earlier. She just shrugs. "Figures."

"If you're afraid of your trigger, there's ways to control it. I can look at some-"

Klaus' head snaps in her direction. "Might I have a word in private, _witch_?"

Heaving a sigh, Bonnie rises to her feet. And instantly regrets her decision as a wave of nausea washes over her.

He grabs her by the elbow, trying to steer her into the dining room. "I thought I made myself clear last night -,"

"I was just asking her a question -," her stomach lurches, swallowing her words. Cold sweat appears on her skin.

"I am not running a charity home, love- " he frowns, peering down at her. "Are you-,"

"Gonna throw up? Yeah in like three seconds," she mumbles.

He releases her so swiftly she almost staggers before hurrying to the nearest bathroom. Bonnie wretches into the sink, head pounding and feeling absolutely miserable. When the spell is over and she's splashed some water on her face, she's immediately ravenous. Her stomach growls almost painfully. She sighs. God, she could eat a horse, a cow...that bar of lemon soap next to the faucet.

Arm clamped over her midsection, she opens the door and finds Klaus waiting with a glass of cold water. He hands it to her without a word.

She manages a quiet 'thank you' and waits for some kind of cutting remark or jibe, but Klaus merely leans against the wall with folded arms, scrutinizing her in a manner that makes her shift uncomfortably. Her mind's eye is suddenly full of the image of his bare back with its riverine scars. It's difficult to reconcile _that_ with the perfectly indolent hybrid standing before her in a clean blue Henley and freshly wet hair, and a funny kind of flush creeps up her neck when she finally looks him in the face to ask a quiet question.

"I know she can't stay, but...can we at least feed her breakfast before she has to leave?"

He rolls his eyes, "And it begins."

"We can't just let her go without at least-,"

" _You_ can, and _you_ will. _I_ have no desire to babysit an insolent pubescent wolf-,"

"I can hear everything you guys are saying by the way," Monique's voice rings out.

"Eavesdroppers are usually silent," Klaus snips back.

Bonnie notes his irritation and feels an idea take shape.

She lowers her voice. "Klaus, you need to figure out how to transform at will, right? Well, she's desperate to figure out how to _control_ the transformation. I think you're in the same boat...sort of."

He scoffs as if the mere thought is distasteful.

"Just, hear me out -," her stomach rumbles and there's a dull throbbing at her temples. "I'm _fine_ ," she states when he raises an eyebrow. "Anyway, like I was saying-,"

Dizziness sweeps through her and she sways on her feet a little, steadying herself against the doorframe. Klaus covers the distance between them to slide a finger under her chin. "You need to eat," he states flatly.

"I'm fi-,"

"You are about to faint." His voice is laced with annoyance and exasperation. Ignoring her feeble protests, he puts an arm around her waist and ushers her down the hallway. Bonnie can't help but sag against him.

* * *

 _My turn to make breakfast next time._

Some of the last words her father had told her before she left Mystic Falls were actually a familiar refrain. Ever since she was old enough to use a stove, Bonnie would make breakfast for the two of them. Always Rudy would respond, "My turn next time," with a smile and a kiss to her cheek before heading out the door. She would wave him off and walk herself to the school bus. Unlike other kids her age, she was precociously responsible and independent. She took pride in making herself as little trouble as possible for her father, in braiding her own hair, starting the laundry, packing her lunch, taking on the duties her mother left behind. Being self sufficient in this way allowed her to believe that Abby's disappearance wasn't impassable, that she could hold her own life together. As the years passed and she grew into young womanhood and into magic, her desire to labor behind the scenes, her belief that she could and _must_ carry the weight of everyone's lives on her shoulders, only grew stronger.

Self effacement became a kind of defining logic to her existence.

And that logic recoils in confusion as she sits in his simple, spacious kitchen while Klaus cooks her breakfast.

She knows he's irritated by the situation, that he just wants to get her fed so she can help him with his wolf issues and send Monique on her way without fainting from hunger. She knows all this and yet, Klaus is the first person in _years_ to make her breakfast. The longer they are away from Mystic Falls, the more it seems there are two versions of the hybrid: the one who inspired such fear in them when he first arrived, and the one with hidden scars who built himself a home in the mountains where he could reclaim a birthright.

"Can you make things disappear?"

Monique's casual question nudges Bonnie out of reverie. The young wolf is seated across from her at the raised oak table, occasionally throwing suspicious glances at Klaus.

"Umm...I've never tried to-,"

"What about people? Can you like beam them to different places?"

"I'm a witch, sweetie, not the Starship Enterprise," Bonnie says gently. Then, sensing an opportunity, she decides to try a question."So, where are you from?"

"Louisiana."

"How'd you end up all the way in Montana?"

"Hitch hiking."

Bonnie frowns a little, "By yourself? Where's your family?"

"Louisiana."

"What about the scavenger wolves in the woods? Are they your friends?"

"No. I hate them."

Bonnie runs an exasperated hand through her hair. "You know, if you don't tell us more we can't really help you."

"I don't need help."

"Fantastic," Klaus sets two bowls of steaming porridge in front of them with flourish. "Now eat up and run along."

Monique looks down at her bowl, then back up at Klaus. "I'm supposed to _eat_ this?"

Bonnie hastily interjects. "I think she means, this looks great, thanks Klaus. Right?"

"I didn't say that."

"Charming." Klaus leans his hands on the table, looking coolly down at the wolf, "Perhaps I should pay your family a visit and thank them personally for your lovely table manners."

"You don't even know anything about me," Monique retorts, though a hint of doubt creeps into her voice

"Nor do I care to. But the witch does, and the longer she probes you for answers, the longer she is distracted from her reason for being here. So," Klaus inclines his head and narrows his eyes, "while I could easily Compel you into politeness, I would much rather _inform_ you that I am quite capable of not only locating your family but delivering you back to their doorstep. And something tells me you aren't exactly in a _rush_ to see them."

Bonnie keeps her eye on Monique, noting the way she shrinks a little and tightens her jaw. There is a brittle quality to the girl that reminds her almost painfully of herself, makes her wonder if her own masks have always been so obvious to others.

She startles when Klaus clears his throat in her direction. He glances sternly at her untouched bowl of porridge.

She hastens to spoon some into her mouth and immediately freezes at the milky, slippery texture. It tastes quite literally like _mush_. She looks at Klaus' expectant face and manages a few more mouthfuls. " _Mmm_ , delicious. Just...so good."

He narrows his eyes a little but is seemingly satisfied at seeing her eat.

"I lived with my sister and her asshole husband. When he found out I was a werewolf he kicked me out," Monique says quietly.

Klaus swivels his gaze to her, "Is your sister not also a werewolf?"

"We have different dads."

He digests this information in silence.

Bonnie ventures a question of her own. "How did you find out you were a wolf?"

Monique fiddles with her spoon. "Doesn't matter." She looks up at Bonnie, "There's really no way to make this thing go away? You said you could Bind it...does that work?"

Before Bonnie could reply, Klaus leans forward, his eyes focused intently on the young wolf. "To be born as we are is not a curse. The only curse lies in the hatred of those who would destroy what they don't understand."

"How would you know? Aren't you a vampire?"

Bonnie sees his face grow stony and intervenes.

"Klaus is a hybrid. He's...both."

Monique looks at him with new eyes, her brow furrowed and a hundred questions written in her gaze.

"Bonnie, I am sure you can send our _guest_ on her way once you are finished with your meal."

He pushes away from the counter and out of the kitchen, his command hanging in the air.

"Someone's sensitive," Monique mumbles, digging into her own porridge.

Bonnie looks down at her half-empty bowl and takes another bite of the overcooked stuff.

"You know," she says thoughtfully, "Klaus is a lot of things, but he feels really strongly about being a wolf. He spent centuries trying to break the Binding Curse. I guess you almost have to admire that kind of determination." She'd once thought him driven solely by a desire for power at all costs, but sitting in his kitchen with the earnest if terrible breakfast he'd cooked, she feels old logics grow soft and blurry with new questions.

Monique however looks unimpressed. "Yeah well, vampire or werewolf your boyfriend's still a jerk."

"He is _not_ my boyfriend-,"

"He like _carried_ you into the kitchen and then cooked you this...weird slop."

"I-,"

" - which you totally pretended to like so you wouldn't hurt his feelings."

"It _was_ nice of him to make breakf- ," Bonnie shakes her head at Monique's knowing look. "Anyway, the _point_ is, Klaus is only being nice to me because he needs witchy help. But as long as I'm helping him, I don't see why I can't help you too."

The girl chews the inside of her cheek, but her face remains otherwise neutral. Finally her hazel eyes rise to Bonnie's face. "Don't you have your own kid to worry about?"

The witch stares in surprise, "How did you-,"

Monique rolls her eyes like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "Last night when I was at your window, you kept looking at your stomach in the mirror. And you just threw up like some character in a dumb Ashley Judd movie, so...,"

" _Hey_ -,"

"Ashley Judd isn't as bad as Katherine Heigl. _Her_ movies are so terrible I want to throw something at the TV." She adds by way of explanation, "My sister _loves_ her stuff."

"She was pretty okay in 'Roswell'. Ever get into that show?"

"The one where all the aliens were white high school kids?"

They fall into an easy conversation about the current television and movie landscape. Monique's ruthless disdain for many popular shows causes Bonnie to erupt in laughter more than a few times. But something bittersweet tugs at her mirth, reminding her of a time when she'd wanted a sibling she could take care of and read stories to. _You were resident mother hen to all, were you not?_ Klaus' words return to taunt her. And as she looks at Monique, with her curly brown hair and delicate features, probably no older than twelve, she's swept with a sudden longing to know what her own child would look like, sound like, have opinions about.

Her hand brushes over her belly as silence falls.

Monique pushes off her stool and heads to the backdoor, "I should get going before Grinch comes back. Thanks for the help last night."

"Monique...wait." Bonnie stands hurriedly. "Stay... let me work on Klaus, and I'll find a way to help you."

The faintest smile stirs Monique's face. "I...really appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Bonnie. But trust me, I'm not worth the trouble."

"But-,"

She pulls up her green hood and opens the door. A breeze full of the scent of rain sweeps in around them. Monique pauses a beat. "You're gonna be a great mom someday."

And she slips out the door faster than Bonnie can stop her, disappearing into the trees with wolfish speed.

Bonnie watches her go as the sky darkens and air rushes between her empty fingers. A raindrop falls across her cheek, and she wipes it quickly away.

* * *

As the morning rain continues well into the afternoon and evening, she closes herself up in her room and tries to peruse her Grimoire for further information about the Energy spell she'd used on Monique.

Whether it was taking care of herself after Abby disappeared, or formulating strategies to protect her friends, in times of doubt and worry Bonnie had always found solace in work.

But that solace proves more and more elusive as the day lengthens and turns into night. She finds herself crying intermittently, then feeling stupid. For wanting to help Monique. For wanting this baby.

She's just stupid, naive Bonnie wanting to mother everyone because she'd never been mothered herself.

 _You're gonna be a great mom someday._

She's ashamed of how much she wants to believe that.

Swollen-eyed and sniffling, she sneaks a few trips to the kitchen for snacks, but otherwise avoids the rest of the house. The last thing she needs is for Klaus to see her like this. Not because she thinks he'd be unkind, but because she's afraid he won't.

It's almost midnight when she decides to brave another trip to the kitchen. As she reaches the foot of the stairs, she notices the firelight emanating from the living room and catches a glimpse of a small figure on the settee.

She peers closer and, sure enough, huddled fast asleep under a blanket, is none other than Monique.

Surprise, joy and confusion rush her mind and she hurries towards the girl. She's so happy that Monique is safe and dry that she almost doesn't notice the hybrid watching her from across the room. As he approaches her she's seized with shyness at being caught, once again, with her heart squarely on her sleeve.

He brushes a finger under her chin and tilts up her face to his. And there's no hiding, not her puffy eyes, and certainly not the traces of joyful relief at Monique being here. At him having brought her back.

"It's absurd really," he says lightly, eyes travelling across her face. "All the offers I've made you, all the things you were promised, and _this_ is the first I've seen you smile."

She's not quite sure what to do with the knowledge that he notices such things about her. So she steps away from him a little and changes the subject, gesturing at Monique. "Do you think she's telling us the whole story, about why she left home? I can't tell if she's just being a smartass kid or lying because she's afraid."

"In my admittedly limited experience with youth, it is usually both."

Bonnie reaches down and adjusts the blanket covering Monique's foot. When she straightens, Klaus is regarding her in a moody, focused kind of way that makes her blush and duck her head. "What?"

He shrugs. "I was simply musing on the fact that impudent as she is, the girl is right about one thing."

She blinks as the silent import of his words sink in.

There's a curious feeling between her ribs, something being sloughed off, breath rushing cool into her lungs.

 _You're gonna be a great mom someday._

Being a witch was never a choice for her but being a mother...maybe that's something she _can_ choose.

With one last glance to ensure Monique is comfortably tucked in, she wishes Klaus goodnight and returns upstairs, the smile that he had remarked upon lingering like sunlight on her face.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So Monique is loosely based on the character of Monique Deveraux from 'The Originals' but I've aged her down quite a bit and given her a completely different backstory and personality, lol. Hope you enjoyed!_


	7. Chapter 7: whose children are like fish

**A/N:** _That weird coffin plot on TVD where Klaus was carting his family around isn't a thing here, so banish that from your minds. I'm also introducing my interpretation of Gloria, who some of you may remember was yet another woefully underused black character in early S3._

* * *

"Heads up, this feels like ice."

Bonnie flinches a little as the ultrasound gel makes contact with her skin and waits for Gloria (the platinum-haired witch and obstetrician who had told her during the first appointment that despite her medical doctorate she prefers midwife because "all of this knowledge belongs to women anyway") to get the machine ready.

"So, how've you been feeling? Any strange symptoms?"

"Well the morning sickness is gone, _thank God_ , but I've been tired lately, more than usual." She wonders if it's magic use that has her worn out, having made Monique and Klaus both amulets charged with an Energy spell, but the spells had been fairly mild. "I haven't done any major magic or anything. Should I be worried?"

"About a little tiredness? Not unless you start losing weight. I had one patient that slept twelve hours a day during her first trimester and her baby was fine." Gloria adjusts the screen a little and picks up the transducer. "And besides, there's the eclipse tomorrow, a _lot_ of supernaturals feel those."

"I didn't know that..." She'd been focused on making Monique and Klaus their amulets - Monique so she could practice controlling her wolf when the moon was weakest, Klaus, the opposite - she hadn't considered herself in the equation. Her mind starts running a mile a minute.

"Hey," Gloria touches her shoulder. "You just worry about getting enough protein and vitamins and staying grounded. The wolves can take care of themselves."

"I-,"

"No more worrying," she insist gently. "Now, let's get our first look at the little one."

* * *

 _Klaus had introduced Gloria as "an old friend", the two evidently sharing the easy camaraderie of longtime drinking buddies. And although Bonnie surmised he was paying her handsomely for being her personal midwife as it were, the older witch clearly loved her chosen vocation. During Bonnie's first appointment a week ago, Gloria detailed her own unique approach to prenatal care._

" _With non-supernatural pregnancies, you have to consider the biological and mental health of the mother to make sure the baby gets delivered safely," Gloria explained, "but with supernaturals, there's a whole other layer to consider: the way our abilities interplay with our emotions and our biology."_

" _Oh don't worry, babygirl, it's nothing too serious." she assured, no doubt seeing the fear and doubt flit across Bonnie's face. "Witches, werewolves, vampires: all our powers are heightened and sometimes even controlled by emotion. Ever had your magic get the best of you during a stressful time?"_

 _Bonnie nodded slowly, thinking of the aftermath of Abby's disappearance and, more recently, the bridge collapsing beneath her and Klaus' feet._

" _It's almost like a fugue state: reality becomes too much and so our rational minds kind of shut down. In regular humans it's called disassociation. Well, when we dissociate, our magic or our wolf or our inner Dracula takes over." She grinned wryly, "Years ago I caught an ex cheating on me and...well, let's just say when my magic was done her car was scrap metal."_

 _Bonnie considered this and recalled the night she'd found Jeremy kissing Anna. She hadn't lost control of her magic although she had indulged in an uncharacteristic one night stand. She wondered what that said about the depth of her feelings for her ex._

 _She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "Does it get easier to control as you get older?"_

" _You saying I'm old?" Gloria teased._

" _Well, no one's as old as Klaus," Bonnie retorted and they both chuckled. She glanced at the older witch again. "Speaking of which...I'm a little curious. Why didn't Klaus ask you to help with his wolf issue? You seem to know a lot more than I do."_

" _And he knows better than to ask me to drop everything and help him get his shit together. Back in the 20's I helped lock his crazy daddy in a tomb and sink him in the middle of the ocean. Nik owes me his life."_

 _Bonnie digested this information. She knew enough to guess that Klaus' father had been a less than ideal parent, but witches didn't jump to the aid of vampires or hybrids unless the case was dire. The image of Klaus' scarred back floated into her mind again._

 _Gloria cocked her head a little, "What's a girl like you doing saddled with his ass anyway? Needed a one way ticket out of town?"_

 _Bonnie opened her mouth to deny that statement, to defend her reasons for leaving Mystic Falls. But the words stuck in her throat a little. "Something like that," was all she could manage._

" _I see." Gloria noted, a humorous glint returning to her eyes, "You sure a little magical help is all he wants from you?"_

 _Bonnie cleared her throat, her ears burning. "I'm not sure I-"_

 _"I'm just saying you seem like a sweet girl. Kind too," Gloria interrupts smoothly._ " _And he hasn't had a lot of kindness in his life."_

 _That's because he doesn't deserve it, she wanted to retort. But something, perhaps the memory of naked scars in firelight or the taste of overcooked porridge, stopped her. She cracked a smile. "I don't know about sweet or kind...I almost killed him once."_

 _Gloria laughed long and heartily. "So you brave too. He's really in trouble." Then she paused before leaning forward in her chair and looking at Bonnie intently. "But to answer your other question, our emotions don't get easier with age. They get easier with practice. The more we step into our powers as magical beings, the more we need to reckon with all our emotion - the good, the bad, the ugly - all of it."_

* * *

"There we go. Baby Bennett is a shy little thing."

Bonnie's eyes dart wildly all over the screen, looking for an anchor, until Gloria indicates the shape of her baby's head.

And there, inside a silver-grey ocean, inside _her_ , her baby glimmers like the reflection of a star. Bonnie blinks, and blinks again.

Surely it's impossible. That after everything she's survived her body can still hold this numinous space, can cup itself around a small life like hands around a candleflame.

It's not hope that she feels, but something deeper and more mysterious. A humbling of sorts.

Somewhere, vaguely, she hears Gloria say, "It's a boy."

But she's in that ocean now, carried by water and light. She ducks under those silvered waves, and each one breaks with the sound of a heartbeat.

* * *

"Hey Care-"

"BONNIE OH MY GOD, where the hell are you oH MY GOD-,"

"Care I'm fine-,"

"Are you with Klaus? I've been worried SICK...we thought you were dead-"

There's a fleeting flicker of guilt before she says, "I'm sorry I left like that it...it just seemed like the safest way."

"Safest for whom, Bon?"

"Anyway, I'm fine-,"

"How can you say that when you're with _him,_ and we can't even-," Caroline's voice softens, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell I just - We didn't think you were _really_ going to go with him."

"It's not like I had a choice, Care." Bonnie bit her lip. That came out harsher than intended. There's a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Caroline speaks again.

"Where are you?"

Bonnie glances out the window at the mountains trimmed with forest.

"Somewhere in Montana. But hey, listen, I need you to do me a favor."

"Bon -"

"I need you to Compel my dad."

The line goes quiet. "You're not planning to come back for a while, are you?"

Bonnie thumbs the ultrasound photo like an amulet as words rise to her throat. _I'm having a baby, Care. I don't know what's that gonna look like, but I know I can't come back, not yet._

To her surprise, her voice sounds clear and resolute. "No, Care. I'm not."

Another pause, then Caroline forges crisply ahead. "I'll tell your dad you got a scholarship somewhere. I can 'talk' to Principal Wyatt too, you can finish your coursework online and still graduate."

Bonnie breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Care. I knew I could count on you."

Another pause. "Do you?"

The question stings. Caroline likes to be the planner and overseer, and together they'd gotten out of situations that left the more naive Elena floundering. Bonnie looks down at the ultrasound picture in her hand and is suddenly seized with a desire to tell her everything.

"Care, there's something else-,"

The blonde sighs on the other line, "Jeremy's been losing his mind since you left. Elena thinks he might be using again."

The twinge in her chest isn't guilt, but it dampens her spirits nevertheless. She lets the moment drift off.

"Bon?" Caroline repeats. "Can I at least tell everyone else you're okay?"

"Yeah, tell them I'm okay."

* * *

When Bonnie heads downstairs around dinnertime, the living room is flooded with paintings, statues and vases. Klaus is busy unpacking some of his art while Monique watches from the couch. The witch pauses in the doorway and observes their interaction.

" _That_ is cool."

"Ah, an old favorite: _Judith Slaying Holofernes_ , by Artemsia Gentileschi. I nicked it from Galleria degli Uffizi in Florence."

"It's so bloody...," Monique marvels, "I've never seen a painting like that. Is she using _his own sword_ to cut his head off?"

"I believe so, yes."

" _Sick_."

"Poetic justice, as it were," Klaus agrees cheerfully.

"Can you behead someone from that angle? Wouldn't you have to come higher?"

"Excellent question. In my own decidedly _vast_ experience, beheading is actually-,"

Bonnie clears her throat and both faces turn to her.

"Maybe don't teach a kid about _decapitation_?" she says pointedly. But there's a smile in her voice, and the heaviness of her phone-call with Caroline is already vanished.

"Why not? I guarantee it is far more useful than anything she's learned at an American public school."

Monique nods. "I have to agree with Hogwarts on this one."

"You will refer to me by my name, wolfling," Klaus warns sternly.

Monique makes a face. " _Wolfling_? So now we're in Game of Thrones."

Klaus glances at Bonnie with mild annoyance. "What on earth is she talking about?"

"It's a TV show that you'd probably enjoy... lots of decapitation happening." She looks at the younger wolf, "Hey, wanna order us a pizza?"

Monique doesn't need to be told twice. "I'm getting anchovies this time," she sings, grabbing Bonnie's phone and floating out of the room. Bonnie watches her go with a wry smile.

"Someone is in a favorable mood," Klaus remarks, polishing a porcelain vase. "I take it you're enjoying Gloria's company?"

"She's pretty great...I guess I should thank you for bringing her here."

He steps back and surveys the vase, a grin spreading across his face. "I was merely honoring the terms of our agreement, but if you enjoy waxing poetic about my generosity _I_ certainly won't stop you."

"...right." She rolls her eyes. "So, about you going out during the eclipse tomorrow..."

"Yes?"

"What about the wolves camped in the woods?"

"Is that concern for my wellbeing I hear, little witch?"

The teasing timbre of his voice causes a strange flutter in her chest. She somehow musters a cool reply, "It's concern for whether I need to do that Land Binding spell you mentioned."

"Ah, well you will be glad to know there's no need for a spell: the last of the wolves fled yesterday."

"Oh...,"

"It appears once again my reputation has preceded me."

A month ago she would've thought nothing of the flippant remark, have chalked it up to Klaus' pride in his hard earned status of 'Original Hybrid'. But now something gives her pause as she watches him continue unpacking his carefully wrapped cargo of art and antiques. Unbidden, she sees him alone in his mansion in Mystic Falls wrapping each vase and statue by hand, their inanimate loyalty perhaps the only kind he knows. Unbidden, she pictures him building a house in the mountains, a house big enough for a family he would never have.

Surely it's impossible, that after everything he's put her through a space inside her should still remain untouched, capable of sympathy and more.

As she moves to sit next to him and shyly produces the ultrasound photo, she feels both amazement and a trembling kind of fear, like the first time you learn just how big the ocean is.

"So...this isn't an Italian painting _but_ it's still pretty cool."

He glances at her and then the photo, his expression unreadable, and she's about to pull away when he suddenly brushes a blunt fingertip across the grey surface. "May I?"

He takes the image from her and peers intently at the grainy outline, his large hand almost swallowing the square. She starts pointing out the shape of limbs and the position of the feet and head, but drifts off when she sees the flicker of a reflective smile in his eyes.

"I suppose art comes in many forms."

And she melts a little, like water into soft sand.

Klaus returns the photo and resumes unpacking. Monique joins them again and immediately pries the hybrid with more questions about Judith and Artemesia Gentileschi. Bonnie notices how he answers each question with laborious detail, even as he growls about her impertinence.

 _The good, the bad, the ugly, all of it._

Surely it's impossible, the way some things survived.

As more spring rain peppers the windows Bonnie tucks her feet up and settles into the couch, the picture of her baby nestled in her hand.

* * *

 **A/N** : _I was hesitant about making the following statements, but more and more I have come to realize that for me, writing (yes, even a fanfic about a witch and a hybrid!), is a political act, and that writing about family and parenting is deeply, deeply personal. As I was editing this chapter, the state of Ohio passed a law that makes abortion illegal once a fetal heartbeat can be detected, which is early as six weeks. Disturbingly, this piece of legislation was inserted last minute into a bill that seeks to revise laws on child abuse and neglect. Believe me I'm not trying to sway anyone's politics here, but I do wish to make an observation as the writer of a story about family, trauma and the choice to be a parent, and that is we must remain wary whenever people try to separate women's rights from those of children. Like the personal and the political, the two are in fact profoundly linked. Children are not safe in a world where women's rights are curtailed at every turn. Women are not safe in a world where motherhood is used to punish them. In the spirt of this story, I ask only that we consider what it would mean to create a world where children and the people who raise them are equally protected, equally loved, and equally valued. _

_As always, thank you for your readership and the many lovely comments that saw me through a dreary November._

 _I'm very excited to write the next chapter, so please pray that grading and finals week are kind to me!_


	8. Chapter 8: fugue

_**A/N:** Trigger warning for physical abuse and bodily fluids._

* * *

 _"It is from our families that we first learn...all manner of seemingly mundane corporeal action. Before we come to spoken language, we learn to read gesture, arms reaching out to hold us or harm us."_ \- Juana María Rodríguez

 _"Oh, the body—its hungers, needs, and limitations. You look at somebody and you realize that they're in there, inside there, somewhere, and how will you ever reach them, understand them?"_ \- Richard Siken

* * *

 _Water and a little flesh. That's all a body is. The rest we acquire, tinted by sun and air, bruised by living. But underneath the sediment of years all bodies, the young and the old and the newborn, the ones marked by magic, the ones that become wolf, the ones that die and the ones that don't, all just water. And a little flesh._

So said Sheila Bennett once while she braided Bonnie's hair, explaining why the moon is of immense importance for supernaturals and humans alike. Even the ocean, the body that birthed all bodies, rises and falls to the moon's touch.

Even the world is just that, water and a little flesh.

As she paces around Monique's room, stretched thin and listless in the long hours between sunset and moonrise, her grandmother's words echo sometimes like a prayer, and other times a warning.

"You're making it worse," the girl says hoarsely from the bed. She's sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, a pale sheen of sweat covering her skin.

"I- okay, I'm sorry, I just - ," Bonnie pauses and tries to get her bearings, running a hand through her hair. "What do you need? Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich-,"

" - I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"Oh! -," she grabs a wastebasket and hurries forward, setting it by the bed and watching the girl anxiously, "Here, just -,"

Monique shudders a little and curls up on her side instead. "I'm fine now...thanks."

The closer they drew to the eclipse, the more withdrawn the girl became. Bonnie had spelled her amulet with a variation of the Energy spell so that she could control her shift against the encroaching moon, but watching her small body twitching feverishly, she wonders if she's been foolish to think she could subvert the moon's power with her own. Maybe this is hurting Monique rather than helping her, maybe -

"Can I have a blanket please?"

The request is so simple and polite, so different from her usual flippant tone, that Bonnie is instantly alarmed.

"Of course you can, honey. Do you need anything else? Some water maybe-,"

"No thanks. Just a blanket." She curls a little tighter and visibly shivers.

Bonnie fetches a blanket, recalling the first night she'd done this, before she even knew Monique's name. Then, as now, she feels stymied by helplessness. She almost hates the moon, irrational as that is, for interfering in her ability to comfort this one girl.

Tucking the blanket around the young wolf's thin form, Bonnie brushes a hand over the damp tangled curls of her hair. She wants to comb out the snarled locks and braid it proper, like Grams used to do for her. Taking care of people, blunting their pain is the only way she's ever made sense of the world. A dark thought takes hold that her own child would turn away from her, would feel pain she could do nothing to prevent.

Monique huddles under the blanket, gathering her body closer into itself like a secret.

Water and a little flesh, all it takes to house a soul.

* * *

The moon rises fever-yellow in a humid sky. Even the cool mountain air seems malaised, dragging its feet until the moon's ordeal is over.

Bonnie eats a sandwich and takes her prenatal vitamins, pausing to check on Monique before a quick shower. Dressed in a comfortable nightshirt and robe, she tries to busy herself with reading . But the burning yellow moon seems to coat her skin, making concentration nearly impossible.

She reaches for her laptop, wondering if some online window shopping could settle her mind. Many of her clothes are too tight around her waist and hips now, and it won't be long before she needs an entirely different wardrobe. But once again, the unsettling heat of the moonlight dampens her fingers as they try to navigate the keyboard, beads her neck so she has to keep wiping.

The moon's almost taunting her now. Just water and a little flesh, is all you are.

Abandoning her room, Bonnie checks on Monique again. To her relief and envy, the girl seems to have fallen asleep at last.

Too unsettled to rest, she wanders aimlessly through the empty house, eyeing the paintings Klaus had mounted in the hallways. Some of them are vivid, fleshy scenes of battle or lovemaking or religious ecstasy. Others are abstract blends of color, evocative and striking. She doesn't recognize any of the names, but the shapes and images arrest her, make her resent how little her schooling had actually shown her of the world.

Of course, it didn't help that she'd spent most of high school grappling with the supernatural, she muses before a startling black and white illustration of two figures standing on a cliffside being assailed by winged demons. She peers at the inscription. _Gustave_ _Doré_ _, Inferno, Canto 21_.

It's strange to find the walls of a Montana ranch-house no matter how sprawling decorated with these solemn pieces, and yet they somehow seem to belong. Her mind flickers to the subject she's been avoiding since said subject wandered off into the woods at sunset.

Klaus.

There's a tightening in her chest at the thought of the hybrid. The Energy spell on his amulet was the opposite of Monique's, instead of subduing the emotions associated with the shift his would amplify them and thus strengthen his connection to his wolf.

Who knew what was happening to him in the woods, under this moon-

 _Is that concern for my wellbeing I hear, little witch?_

She shakes off the sound of his voice. Klaus is more than capable of handling himself as well as whatever...demons the eclipse brings to the surface. He's not a child, she doesn't need to worry about him.

Doré's etching catches her eye again, the moonlight yellowing on lines of contorted flesh.

She shuffles quickly away.

* * *

It's the best room to watch the eclipse from, located in the westernmost part of the house, with huge windows she once glimpsed when the door was half open.

It's also Klaus' studio.

He's never expressly forbidden entry to the room, but she recalls him carefully unpacking his collection and senses rather than knows that _creating_ art is an even more personal and private matter to him.

Her hand hovers over the doorknob.

The moonlight is red now, its sickly heat from earlier deepened to a hazy kind of burn. Sweat gathers at the base of her scalp.

 _Maybe if I don't touch anything..._

She looks down at her phone. The eclipse is underway.

 _I'll just watch a little bit and then leave._

The door swings open at her touch, like it's been waiting for her inevitable decision. She wonders if Klaus was in here before leaving for the woods. She smothers one last twinge of guilt.

This is _Klaus_. He wouldn't have the same hesitations if he was in her place.

 _Just this one time._

With one last look over her shoulder, Bonnie walks into the room.

The moon burns crimson in the windows, a shadow eating at her side.

Watery red light fills the room as Bonnie stands by a table scattered with paper, half-opened paint tubes and bits of charcoal. There's small pots of water with brushes in them, and sketches in various stages of completion. She averts her eyes from their lines and strokes. She doesn't want to see that side of him, a side he seemingly shows no one. She spots a rag and sponge still wet. A half empty glass of bourbon. Suddenly when she breathes, she can smell his cologne. She's not even sure if Klaus _wears_ cologne, but she can recognize the warm, smoky scent nonetheless.

The moon burns and she stands in a room soaked in his solitude.

 _People are afraid of the moon,_ Grams had said. _Something scarred that reflects the light. Something small that can stir oceans. They're afraid of their own strangeness, their scars._

She makes to hurry out of the studio, but stumbles a little in the half light and bumps into a table. _Shit._ A box falls open on the ground, scattering some wooden objects.

Her hand finds a small horse as the face of the moon grows black.

 _There's the sound of crying, a woman's muffled scream. Then, two figures, one walking swiftly past some trees dragging the other behind._

 _In the moonlight she sees Klaus, younger, long dirty blond hair brushing his shoulders. The taller man shoves him face-first against a wooden enclosure. She waits for Klaus to retaliate, but he only sags there._

 _The other man - hard muscled and squeezing something between his hands - stalks up and down. His boots crunch wet earth in a steady, brutal pace._

" _Take off your clothes."_

" _Father, please I-,"_

 _There's a crack, rope hitting flesh. The thing in his hands is a whip, three tails, each with a cruel band of knots._

 _Again, she waits for Klaus to turn around, to seize that whip and tear it apart._

 _But he obeys, slowly, head lowered and hair falling around his face. With trembling hands, he removes each item of clothing and sets it carefully aside. His belt, trousers, boots, vest and torn shirt, until he stands before his father naked save for a small silver pendant at his throat._

 _He's so young, Bonnie realizes. He hasn't yet reached his full height, and his chest caves in a little. A scrawny man-boy, with hands and feet too big for his body._

 _And then it begins. The whip rises and falls and rises again. Klaus is quiet at first, save for a few shuddering gasps._

 _It goes on and on. Rope biting flesh with thick, sharp strikes. Soon, it becomes too much for Klaus to endure in silence. He begins to make hoarse, desperate sounds. Sounds more animal than human._

 _They make Bonnie's skin crawl._

 _She almost hates him then, hates the thin rattle of his chest and his tear-slimed face, the way he kneels there naked in the dirt, his gangly hands trying to protect his head._ _She feels sick, a helpless and enraged witness._

 ** _Come on Klaus, stand up. Make it stop._**

 _The man Klaus called father pauses in his exertions, breathing hard, sweat running down his arms._

 _Klaus sways on all fours, his back streaming red._

 _The man lowers himself beside Klaus, cupping his jaw and turning his face to the dim light. His other hand pushes the damp blond hair gently away. "Open your eyes, Niklaus." His tone is soft and cloying. "I know you're not spent yet. Look, look at what I have."_

 _He holds up a small wooden horse and gives Klaus a shake. The latter's eyes open heavily._

" _Did you carve this?"_

" _Y-yes -"_

" _And, did you use my hunting knife? Tell the truth now."_

 _Klaus nods, tries to wipe the snot off his face and fails, sagging into his father's arms. The words come out broken and thin. "It's the sharpest knife we have, I was very c-careful, I cleaned and sharpened it each t-time. It was for Henrik, f-for his nameday I wanted -," he gulps._

 _His father strokes his face, "Go on, I'm listening."_

 _A terrible gleam of hope enters Klaus' eyes. He rushes into a blubbering confession, how he'd worked on the carvings every night for a month, and they weren't very good but he thinks Henrik will like having a set, because it's a set you see, a small army of knights and a dragon for them to battle. Perhaps, if father would permit, he could travel to town after the harvest, trade for some pigment with which to paint the knight's armor and the dragon's scales, so Henrik would have a set as good as any wealthy merchant's son._

" _Is that right?" his father's smile doesn't reach his eye. "This little set in here?" He unfastens a small cloth bag from his belt and pries it open. Retrieves a knight and two more horses. "I suppose artistry can provide things even I am unable to."_

 _A ghostly joy blankets Klaus' swollen face._

 _His father rises up, a booted foot kicking open the wooden door behind them. There's a horrid buzzing of flies around a dark hole in the ground. She sees the gleam of feces and urine. He steps past Klaus into the cesspit._

 _And Bonnie watches him empty the little wooden toys down that dark hole._

 _There's a wounded cry and she wants to look away. Klaus crawls on his hands and knees, across the filth and flies, slipping in his exhaustion. She can't close her eyes. He gropes in that foul pit, pulls out his creations one by one._

 _His father shuts the door, bars it with his knife._

When her eyes adjust to the present the moon has bled and died and returned speckled silver and her hands are full of small wooden toys.

Bonnie puts them back in their box, slowly, sealing the lid with shaking fingers. There a name etched into the corner.

 _Henrik_.

She almost runs from the studio. She needs to take another shower, crawl into her bed and -

\- the glow of yellow eyes find her in the dark. A figure slouches into the living room.

* * *

 _Reality becomes too much and so our rational minds kind of shut down,_ Gloria had explained _. The more we step into our powers as magical beings, the more we need to reckon with all our emotion - the good, the bad, the ugly - all of it._

She wonders how she looked to others in those moments she had lost herself and her magic slipped in. Five years old, catatonic with power pulsing through her. Sixteen, watching a vampire's body jerking in flames.

She wonders how she looked to _him_ , desperate and furious on that bridge in Missouri before it broke under them.

"Klaus?" she calls shakily at the hunched figure on the floor. "What-,"

A shudder contorts his frame. He rises onto his hands, limned and naked in the firelight, leaves and dirt clinging to his hair and shoulders. He's not the lanky adolescent she'd glimpsed in the vision, there is no tormentor standing over him, and yet the sight of him like this makes her shrink in embarrassment and terror.

She starts to slowly retrace her steps when his head snaps up. Amber-shot eyes arrest her, burning like twin moons in a slack-jawed, empty face. A face that holds no trace of Klaus.

Yet, seized as he is by the wolf, he makes no move to attack her. Instead he appears caught in the grip of a terrible internal battle of which, she knows, she's already seen more than she was ever meant to.

"Klaus, it's- it's okay. You're safe now, you're better than safe you're the Original Hybrid. You don't have to be afraid-,"

She jumps when a strangled growl escapes his throat, deepening to a howl of pitiful rage. Not rage at her, no. That would be easier. For all that she's seen in her short life, nothing has quite prepared her for this. There's no spell she knows that can pry memory from flesh.

"I - I should go away -" she speaks haltingly. Another half-growl, but no movement. It feels almost accusatory and her voice cracks. "Klaus...I don't know what to do, I'm sorry I - _I don't know how to help you_ -" She wipes her face and realizes she's crying. "It's like you said," she sniffs, "sometimes people are innocent and they- they get hurt anyway, and there's _nothing_ I can do."

Golden eyes watch her. His whole body shivers like under a fever. She gives a hollow laugh and rubs her nose on her sleeve. "I can get you a blanket. A _blanket_. Dumb, right."

Picking up a russet colored blanket from the couch she brings it hesitantly to his side.

Sweat glistens along the ropy scars on his back, and she remembers the terrible strokes of that whip. She expects him to shrink away, but the wolf's eyes look at her before lowering his head. Bonnie drapes the blanket over his back. He trembles again.

"I'm sorry -,"

"Stay."

The gold is slowly leaving his eyes. He's starting to look like Klaus again, the Klaus _she_ knows. Somehow, that makes his imploration even more frightening. She can't move, pinioned by the image of him groping in the dark for toys he'd carved with his own hands.

She can't find it in her to refuse him.

Averting her eyes as he wraps the blanket around his nude form, she lowers herself to the ground. They both stare into the fireplace in a thickening silence.

"Talk," he says hoarsely.

"...about what?"

" _Talk._ "

"Okay...umm...okay. Talk. I can do that," she chews her lip, her mind going suddenly blank. "... I'm not really a dog person. Wait, that's not what it sounds like. I like dogs it's just I _prefer_ cats, you know? Not that you're a _dog_ , but - Oh god," she breaks off and notices him listening raptly.

"You really just...want me to talk? Just keep talking?"

He leans against the coffee table and closes his eyes.

Bonnie takes a deep breath. "I - well I never learned how to ride a bike. I'd like to, someday, maybe after the baby's born. Yesterday I spent three hours looking at baby clothes online but then it got kinda overwhelming so I didn't buy anything. I need new clothes too. I know, I know, you gave me that Amex card and said 'spend at will, witch' but I can't just suddenly do that -," she pauses, "I guess...I guess having all those new things would make it _real_ in a different way. Anyway...,"

She continues, turning from thoughts to anecdotes to surprising memories. The time she let Caroline convince her to play hooky from school, how they were both caught immediately and grounded for almost a month. The summer Rudy took her with him on a business trip to Minneapolis and she got lost at the Mall of America. The blue tea-set Grams gave her for Christmas. The stray puppy that followed her home and died in her arms soon after. The squirrel she fed that came back and stole her poptarts.

She wishes she had something more to offer with which to counteract his own memories, stories of a beautiful, picket-fence childhood and perfect parents. The kind of childhood everyone is supposed to have, so you grow up whole and happy. So you have all the answers for your own children.

Her hand grazes his, resting side by side. Her eyes travel up the length of his arm to his face. The way he looks at her... She can't quite describe it. Like she's something he's closed his fingers around in the dark, never to let go.

It makes her dizzy.

"You should probably take that off now," she manages, pointing to the amulet on his chest.

Klaus blinks and lowers his head, waiting. Shifting closer, her hands go behind his neck as she lifts the necklace off. His nose brushes her hair and she feels him breathe deep.

"Should I - should I keep talking?" she asks softly, studying his face. His own eyes return her scrutiny with a hunger that feels almost innocent.

"Hogwarts, you made it."

Bonnie quickly scoots away from Klaus, her cheeks aflame as Monique walks in trailing a blanket behind her like a cape.

If the younger wolf noticed anything she stays quiet, choosing instead to plop down next to Bonnie and lay her head in her lap under her baby bump. Bonnie strokes her tousled hair, tentatively at first, then with gentle assurance. "That feels nice," the girl mumbles in a sleepy voice. She seems subtly different, more centered, a little less afraid.

And Bonnie wonders if she's misunderstood all this time what water and flesh can hold, what a childhood is supposed to be, how the moon loves them all.

She continues caressing Monique's hair long after the girl falls asleep. Klaus' eyes, golden once more, follow the motion of her hand.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : This chapter has been in my head almost from the moment I started the fic. That being said, it took a lot out of me emotionally, and touched on some difficult subjects, so I hope I pulled it off. I also did the last edits with a stuffy nose and drowsy from allergy meds, so hopefully I didn't miss anything. Do let me know your thoughts in the reviews! And I wish you all happy holidays and a lovely new year!_

 _ **P.S:** I know my last Author's Note delved into the sensitive subject of abortion, and I wanted to thank each of you who respectfully shared your own views in the comments even when we didn't agree. What's important to me is that we all managed to speak and be heard, with and by each other, without devolving into any kind of personal attacks. So, thank you for being both honest and respectful within our little community, and I look forward to many more conversations._


	9. Chapter 9: butterflies

In the weeks that follow the eclipse Bonnie sees very little of Klaus. He's usually gone when she and Monique head down for breakfast, and he doesn't return until well past moonrise. While they eat dinner, he retreats into his studio and remains there until they go to bed.

Their communication happens through their daily routines. Some mornings Bonnie finds a pot of porridge on the stove (he's getting marginally better at cooking the stuff, although he has too much of a loose hand with the sugar) or a bowl of fresh-picked blackberries. Other mornings, she'd discover his drink glass drying on the dish-rack, an empty bottle of bourbon on the counter and his boots still by the door (those mornings he also slept late, padding downstairs around lunchtime with messy, wet hair and what Monique had dubbed "grumpy wolf face")

She discovers that Klaus Mikaelson, bloodthirsty hybrid, is also a "clean freak". While he employs a small crew to clean the place top to bottom weekly, she occasionally spots him re-washing the windows or wiping the tables, sweeping the hardwood floors of dust visible only to supernatural eyes.

("He's like Monica from _Friends_ ," Monique quips. "Except he can't cook.")

Bonnie guesses his obsession with spotless hygiene has a deeply personal root, but it isn't a subject she likes dwelling on. (It's awkward enough being reminded of what she'd seen that night, the brutality he'd endured, every time their eyes meet across the room) She'd always prided herself on the belief that people chose who they became, but choice no longer seems easy or clear-cut.

Even more disconcerting is the comfort she starts to find in their household routine. The strange mushy porridge becomes a familiar part of her morning. And at night, she finds herself lulled to sleep by the sound of his boots on the stairs, knowing he's returned home.

Sometimes he leaves her notes, stuck to the kettle or the fridge door or some other spot she's sure to frequent. The notes themselves are typical of Klaus: forthright and sardonic.

(Monique rolls her eyes. "Why doesn't he just text you?"

Bonnie bites back a smile, because she's grown to enjoy the little missives, the way his dramatically looping cursive dwarfs the paper, how his voice leaps off the page.)

 _The plumber should come around at noon. If he tracks mud on the carpet, hex him. - K_

 _Please contain your alarm if you see me with an axe this morning. I will be chopping firewood. - K_

 _Must you fill the refrigerator with pickles? -K_

 _Found your history homework on the dining table. Took the liberty of correcting several ridiculous inaccuracies using your pen. (Is the glitter necessary?) - K_

In the weeks that follow the eclipse she sees very little of Klaus, but she senses that the night has changed them both in some nameless, indelible way. (And though she senses too that someday, perhaps sooner than either of them would like, they would have to confront that change and give account of their actions, for now it's simpler to let those invisible currents take hold, turning them this way and that, like a dance you make up with each new strain of music)

 _The plumber was very nice and took his shoes off. No hexing required. - B_

 _I didn't think an axe could make you look scarier. I was wrong. Thanks for the heads up! - B_

 _I know it's a lot, but they were on sale! And they're organic! - B_

 _Thanks for the help, but I can't use "1000-year-old-immortal being" as an academic source. Your notes were cool though. Did you know the Marquis de Sade personally? Don't answer that... - B_

* * *

The weeks slip by, the moon waxes and the days get warmer. She does her homework outside in the fresh mountain air and, tentatively, buys herself some maternity clothes. They make her feel soft and flowy like the breezes that follow spring rain.

(Only, occasionally, she feels a twinge of guilt when she thinks of her father and the rest of her friends back in Mystic Falls. But the source of that guilt and whether it springs from a desire to know how they're faring, or from the ease with which she finds herself adapting to life in Montana, proves difficult to pinpoint)

Her waist continues thickening, her breasts feel lush and tender to the touch, and the smooth, warm mound of her belly grows more prominent. Sometimes she looks at herself in the mirror and marvels at the new lines and curves emerging on her body, like a map rewriting itself.

( One afternoon she runs into Klaus in the kitchen while wearing one of her favorite new purchases: a yellow babydoll top made of soft, breezy cotton. His eyes do a funny, focused blinking before quickly looking away. She feels the back of her neck grow warm.

"I think he was looking at your boobs," Monique giggles when they're alone.

"Hush. You're too young to be talking about boob- they're called 'breasts'."

"Okay. He was looking at your 'breasts'."

" _Hush_." )

The changes in her body bring a new, heightened awareness at the sensory level. Certain foods taste sharper and more satisfying than others. She's drawn to particular scents, while others repel her. She can smell flavors in food before she eats them. The feel of dewy grass between her toes keeps her mesmerized for hours.

Her body also begins to announce its needs in ways that are impossible to ignore. Hunger pangs compel her to drop everything to fix a snack. Bouts of sleepiness steal her away for hours at a time in the afternoons.

(Of course other urges prove more difficult to assuage. Like the time she sees Klaus chopping firewood on her way back from an evening walk. He's shirtless and wielding an axe as though he was born a woodcutter's son. Her eyes alight like birds on the bough of his arms, skipping down the line of shoulder and chest, lingering on the sweat-beaded nape of his neck. A rivulet of moisture glistens between his shoulderblades and before she can command her thoughts they seize on the idea of touching her tongue there, just the tip, to taste salt and skin.

Klaus turns around, pushing some hair off his brow.

"Something you need, witch?''

She makes an inane remark about the weather and hurries inside.)

Bonnie lies awake that night, the window open and a cool breeze wafting over her heated skin, and hears him climbing up the stairs. His boots sound heavy and purposeful, each step echoing in the dark. He pauses on the landing and she holds her breath, a wild thought settling on her chest that he will turn, walk to her room, push open the door and -

(her mouth goes dry and there's a liquid rush of heat in her lower belly)

\- his footsteps gradually move in the opposite direction, towards his own room.

It's a long while before sleep comes for her.

* * *

The second full moon after the eclipse sees Klaus and Monique leaving for the woods together.

Bonnie watches them go with both apprehension and excitement. Last time, Monique had preferred to remain in the basement behind a magically barred door, a fact which pained Bonnie as the night wore on and the young wolf began scratching and howling inside the small room.

But at least the girl had been under the same roof as her, whereas tonight she was out under the moon's full power, with no companion besides Klaus. She didn't really think the hybrid would have asked Monique to accompany him if he didn't intend on keeping her close, but still, worry makes her stay awake long past her usual bedtime.

Bonnie sets up camp in the living room with a blanket, some books and a dish of pickles with mustard drizzled over them. When, hours past midnight, her eyelids start to droop at last, she lays down on the couch and covers herself with the blanket she'd been using. It's warm and smells like something familiar, something earthy and she nuzzles her face into it a few times unconsciously.

Only as sleep descends on her does she realize she's covered herself in Klaus' scent.

"Is it _normal_ to consume this many pickles?"

His soft utterance eases her awake. Klaus is seated on the other end of the couch, examining the dish that's empty save for some traces of mustard.

Bonnie sits up immediately, rubbing her face, "Where's-,"

"Upstairs, fast asleep. Although not as fast as you were." He looks her over in amusement. "It's almost dawn, we returned an hour ago."

"Oh." She notices he's barefoot and freshly showered, comfortably clad in jeans and a loose grey Henley. There's a sleepy kind of looseness to his posture that's new to her. "So how...how was it?"

He leans back against the couch, "I've never shifted with a companion before. It was _novel_ , to say the least. She's a good little hunter. That stag didn't stand a chance."

"You guys killed a deer?"

"And some possum and quite a few rabbits," he murmurs, eyes drifting close. "The latter were delicious..."

She smiles grimly. "Poor rabbits."

"They're perfect little monsters if you're trying to raise vegetables."

His head droops a little, his features relaxing. This is the first time they've sat together like this, for a protracted amount of time, since the night of the eclipse. He's not caught in a fugue state, but there's an open, languid quality to him that's disconcerting in a different way. He seems quite content to doze off beside her, and she has the sudden urge to brush the damp curls from his heavy brow and kiss the skin there.

He cracks one eye open, sensing her gaze. "Do I have dirt in my hair or something?"

"What... no you don't. I - I was just thinking it's nice you guys had a good shift." She swings her legs off the couch and scoots away some.

Her arms rise into a stretch, and this time it's she who feels _his_ eyes - both of them - tracing the curve of her spine.

"Yes...quite nice," he echoes.

"You won't even need your amulets anymore," she says, trying to dissipate the sudden thickness in the air between them.

Klaus doesn't reply, hooded eyes drifting over her. There's an unabashed quality to his wolf nature, far different from the cool, teasing manner he usually affects, still clinging to him.

"Do I have pickle juice on my shirt or something?" she teases.

He cocks his head, a contemplative look on his face. "No."

She feels like a moth flown into an invisible web. Lounging and relaxed though he seems, she feels caught by his presence. And she smells of him, surely he can tell -

The sudden, rippling sensation in her stomach makes her gasp.

Bonnie goes still, unsure whether to believe it. This is nothing like the little starts and flicks she'd thought were her imagination before-

-it happens again, an unmistakeable, wing-like fluttering.

Seeing her tense, Klaus sits up slowly, grumbling. "Witch, if you go into into labor on my sofa-,"

"Shh!" Without thinking she grabs his hand and places it over the swell of her belly. "I just felt- he's moving...a _lot_."

Lips parting in surprise he draws his thumb above her navel, and the baby replies with another airy dance of movements.

"Do you feel that?" she marvels, " it's like-,"

"Butterflies," he finishes, softly.

His warm hand lingers on her, drawing another fluttery wiggle. Their eyes lock in wonder and shock. She wants to ask what he knows of butterflies, did he chase them when he was a boy, did he ever catch one in his hand, love a terribly fragile thing? She wants to say, describe it to me, does it feel the same outside my body, like an eyelash sweeping your palm?

His eyes return to her belly, thumb still stroking her through her sleepshirt. There's another delighted flurry of movement, she wonders if her baby is ticklish. She feels giddy.

"He's about the size of a mango now," Bonnie supplies.

The corner of his mouth lifts a little. "Is he?"

It takes a while before she notices the light blinking in her peripheral vision. Her phone is flashing with a series of texts from Caroline. Klaus reaches for the device and hands it to her before leaning back again. His fingers graze the small of her back as she scrolls her messages.

Her heart drops to her feet.

 _"Hey, call me ASAP. Your dad was in a car accident"_

* * *

 _ **A/N:** (Just a reminder that in Chapter 7 Caroline told Bonnie she would send her homework to do online, hence Bonnie doing schoolwork )_

 _Thank you again, everyone, for the reviews and follows. It always amazes me how much support this little fic has, and it never fails to cheer me up. I hope this chapter wasn't boring, since it's more of glimpse into Bonnie's daily life with Klaus and Monique. Since the preceding chapters have been somewhat action-driven I felt it was important to have a breather before stuff starts happening again. Those of you on Tumblr know I've recently been playing around on Pixlr, and I've made a couple of edits for this fic. Just search "my edits" on my blog if you want to see them. Looking forward to your thoughts in the reviews!_


	10. Chapter 10: a home for moths

_For a time, after her mother disappeared, Bonnie disappeared into books._

 _She read constantly, in between her little chores at home, at school during recess, at night long after she was meant to be asleep._

 _Both Rudy and the child psychologist he made her have a few sessions with were thrilled at this development._

" _I'll buy you any book you want to read, bonbon," he told her once on the drive to school ( a rare event with his work schedule). "So long as it's not a romance novel."_

 _Bonnie thought hard about what that meant. She'd seen such a book on Mrs. Forbes' shelf. Caroline had snuck it upstairs during a sleepover and she and Elena had dissolved into fits of giggles about the cover. She vaguely remembered a woman with long flowing hair and a man's beefy chest._

" _How come?" she asked her Dad, more out of curiosity than genuine concern._

" _Because if you've read one romance novel you've read them all. There's no story there, nothing new to learn."_

 _The conversation left an impression she forgot about until some years later._

 _She was twelve years old, crawling up into the attic looking for an old teddybear, when she stumbled on the chest marked with Abby's name. In that musty trunk, buried under some dresses, a collection of combs and costume jewelry, and half eaten by moths, were stacks and stacks of the same kind of novel. The same kind of story. Her eyes pored over silk-clad damsels running across moors being chased by men in fancy suits, and slender young women holding babies while handsome husbands towered over them._

 _The covers were well worn by her mother's hands. She couldn't remember ever seeing Abby with the books, which meant the reading had occurred in secret, away from her and Rudy. Bonnie's first instinct was to take one and read it herself, then she was instantly flooded with shame, a shame she couldn't understand but that filled her throat like bile, making her shut the chest and hurry back downstairs._

 _She felt small and very alone, shut out by her parents and their baffling secrets. She wondered if all people hid parts of themselves away._

 _How did they know, what to conceal and what to keep? Who showed them?_

* * *

The receptionist, a thin brunette with a sparkling diamond engagement ring and a name-tag that spells "Ashlee", gives her a disdainful gaze that Bonnie is certain has everything to do with the pregnant belly swelling against her pink t-shirt she had worn for her flight to Virginia.

"I'm here to see Rudy Hopkins, he was brought in last night-,"

Ashlee cuts her off. "Are you family?"

The brusque question catches her off guard. "I- I'm his daughter, Bonnie."

Sharp eyes flick down to her protruding belly again. "Last name?"

"Bennett. I have my mom's name."

She fidgets while Ashlee flips through some forms. There's two more people in line behind her now.

"Your date of birth?"

Bonnie supplies the information with a sting of shame. Only, the shame isn't welling up inside her anymore. It feels foreign, like someone forcing cough syrup down a child's throat. The realization steels her spine, makes her draw up straighter and address Ashlee in a calm but clear tone. "I could call Dr. Fell and have her vouch for me but I'd _hate_ to bother her when she's so busy. Maybe you could call her? Just use my first name, she knows who I am."

Her words have the desired effect. Ashlee closes her file with a huff and begins scribbling a note.

"Your dad's in room 233," she says almost like an afterthought.

Bonnie foregoes a thank you in favor of hurrying down the hallway, ignoring the curious looks and questioning faces until she finds the room. Easing the door open, her soft entrance is abruptly forestalled when she notices Rudy isn't alone.

A woman bends over the bed, hand clasped with his, talking in a hushed, intimate tone. Bonnie notes that she's about her father's age, with a distinct, square face and high cheekbones, dressed in a plain blue cardigan and jeans. A small, gold cross glints at her throat when she looks up.

Before Bonnie can say a word, the older woman strides forward and clasps her hand. Her grip is firm and comforting. Almost maternal.

"You must be Bonnie. Rudy's not in any danger, he has two broken ribs and a mild concussion. thinks he can go home in a few days."

Bonnie opens and closes her mouth. "Thank you, I'm -"

The woman shakes her head with a kind smile. "I'm so sorry this is how we're meeting. I'm Anaïs, Rudy's fiance."

* * *

They met during a business trip to Minneapolis and kept in touch, dancing around their attraction for years until they took the plunge and began long-distance dating. The engagement had occurred a few months ago, and they'd decided to keep it private until their families could meet over the summer.

Anaïs furnishes her with this information over Jell-O cups from the hospital cafeteria while Rudy sleeps. Bonnie listens and eats in silence, trying to understand the strange, disjointed feeling in her chest.

The feeling explains itself when they take Rudy home two days later. Anaïs has thought of everything, from a roomy rental car that could transport him comfortably to turning his study into a second bedroom so he won't have to go up and down the stairs. Bonnie offers to help many times, only to be sweetly refused and instructed to "rest" and "not worry so much."

The awkwardness of his not-so-secret engagement and her not-at-all secret pregnancy hangs heavily between her father and herself, rendering even their usual light-hearted conversations strained and shallow. Their most sincere communications had always been through actions rather than words. Making breakfast, watching a movie together on weekends, reading next to each other on the couch.

His injuries, and Anaïs' presence, upends all of that.

So Bonnie spends her days trying to do homework and avoiding Caroline's phone calls until one day the blonde corners her outside the grocery store and, after several minutes of incoherent hugging and exclaiming, hauls her off to Mystic Grill.

"Bonnie, unmarried pregnancy isn't a huge deal anymore, you didn't have to leave town with KLAUS of all people just 'cos some dude knocked you up-."

"That's not really why-,"

"And who _is_ that dude anyway? Do I need to punch his lights out? Why didn't you tell me you were hooking up with randos at weird bars-,"

"There was just the one rando-,"

"Elena's gonna _freak_ , you know that right? I mean we're talking nuclear meltdown levels here."

Suddenly, her face feels wet. Bonnie wipes at the stray tears and is about to choke out an apology when she's surrounded in a flurry of blonde hair and strawberry perfume. Caroline pulls her tighter into the hug. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just - I didn't know what was happening and I missed you, I- I'm sorry."

Bonnie relaxes into her embrace, sniffling a little. "Sorry, pregnancy hormones. I cry at everything now. "

"Quit apologizing. I'm the one who should be sorry. God, I yelled at my pregnant friend."

"I should've told you," she mumbles into the blonde's shoulder, "I wanted to, but everything was happening and I was so far away-,"

"Shush. It's okay, you're here now."

The blonde pulls back and hands her some tissue, watching her dab at her face as though she's seeing her for the first time.

"This is really happening. You're really having a baby," she says softly.

"Due in December," Bonnie sniffs, smiling a little.

"Wow."

"It's a boy, I felt him move a couple days go. It was the most surreal thing." She leaves out of course the hybrid who'd shared the moment with her. "And by the way, did you know my dad is _engaged_ now?"

"WHAT?"

"Yup. To a woman he met on a business trip. She flew down from Georgia when she heard about his accident and she's gonna stay another week."

"Okay, that's it," Caroline waves over one of the waiters and orders a three course meal. "We need grease and we need sugar. Lots of it."

Bonnie, feeling her spirits lighten, makes sure to order extra pickles with her burger.

* * *

"So wait, you're telling me Klaus Mikaelson, our very own Nightmare on Elm Street, the guy who made Tyler a hybrid, found you an OBGYN and adopted a runaway kid?"

Bonnie nods.

Tyler's hybrid status is one of the reasons she'd avoided Caroline. It felt... _wrong_ to sit here and think about the months she'd shared with Klaus and then remember the night they all thought Tyler was dead. She can't erase Klaus' crimes even if she wants to, but equally indelible is their time running from a strange beast, the moment he took her back to the real world in his arms, the night she covered his shaking shoulders with a blanket.

Bonnie looks down at her hands and voices a quiet question. "How's Tyler?"

"I haven't seen him in two months. He's travelling with some werewolves in Alaska," Caroline sips her chocolate milkshake with a slight eye-roll and somehow, Bonnie gets the feeling Tyler's absence doesn't rankle the blonde as much as she lets on.

"What's he doing in Alaska?" she asks tentatively.

"It's some kind of training so he can Bind his vampire side and go back to just being a wolf again. It's funny...," Caroline trails off, a thoughtful look on her face that for a split second makes her appear older, composed and mature, "he told me, he didn't ask to be a werewolf, and he definitely didn't ask to be a hybrid, but now -,"

"He's choosing something?" Bonnie supplies.

Her friends nods, "Yeah, yeah that's it."

"And...does that something include you?"

Caroline beams and the young, vivacious girl reappears. "He calls me everyday. Sometimes we talk for hours at a time. He says he wants to be back in time for prom, so we can enroll in college classes together like we planned."

Bonnie squeezed her friend's hands. ""That's amazing. I'm so happy for you, Care."

"Thanks, Bon," Caroline squeezes back, then chews on her bottom lip, "have you talked to Jeremy since you got back?"

"No," Bonnie sighs, "and honestly I don't even know if we have anything left to say to each other."

Caroline clucks a noise of sympathy, then quickly smiles again, patting Bonnie's belly. "Jeremy can do whatever he wants. You don't need romance anyway, you have bigger things to think about."

She feels a tug, something between deja vu and the shame of concealment. There's things she wants to confide in Caroline, feelings and desires she isn't sure what to do with that come wrapped in the scent of smoke and watercolors and fresh grass, that sound like footsteps down a hallway from her bedroom, that burn like amber eyes and a voice saying only, _Stay_.

But she shoves those thoughts aside, closing the lid above them like a secret for the darkness and the moths.

* * *

It's past dinnertime when Caroline drops her home after extorting a promise to shop for baby clothes together. Bonnie waves her off, and finds Anaïs and Rudy huddled together on the makeshift bed in his study while the TV bathes them in flickering light. Her head is nestled on his shoulder, their ankles twined together.

She feels like an intruder, something to remain hidden.

Even her bedroom that was once her haven is small and strange now, the bed hurts her back and the air freshener smells cloyingly sweet. It's only been a week and she misses Montana - its crisp mountain air and soft blue skies - already. She misses the sound of Monique playing video-games (Klaus had surprised her with a Playstation some weeks ago) and Klaus moving around in his studio.

Bonnie picks up her phone and scrolls until she reaches his number. She closes and re-opens her home screen four times before finally hitting 'Call'.

* * *

 _She heard his steps before he knocked. Wrapping her bathrobe around herself and sweeping her wet hair over one shoulder, Bonnie opened the door to find Klaus' tall frame looming in her doorway while he looked at something on his phone._

 _The sun hadn't fully risen, and his face was unreadable in the half light. But there was a quiet, almost soft quality to his voice when he spoke. "Have you managed to talk to him?"_

" _No, he's still unconscious. Dr. Fell said it's only a mild concussion but -," she bit her lip, playing with the ends of her hair and searching for words. "So, I know we didn't really discuss terms when we left Mystic Falls -,"_

" _But you wish to go see your father," he finished._

 _Her face lifted in surprise, searching his own. He handed her his phone and her eyes drift to the screen, reading the words and numbers there. One first class ticket to Virginia, with her name as passenger._

" _Your flight leaves in the late afternoon, so unless you wish to incur Gloria's wrath I would get some rest." He adds, at her quizzical look. "I heard you, pacing up and down like a ferret." It's true, ever since Caroline's text four hours ago she'd been unable to sit still._

" _Klaus I-," she looked at the travel details again, a slight frown appearing on her face. "This is a one way ticket."_

" _Yes well, your father might not want to relinquish your company too quickly, given that your presence is..." He met her eyes, his gaze disarmingly sincere, "...particularly comforting during such times."_

 _Her neck grew warm, and she shuffled her feet a little. "That's me, your resident Florence Nightingale."_

 _He pretended to shudder ."Perish the thought, love. The 'lady with the lamp' was a right old shrew when no one was looking."_

" _You_ _ **knew**_ _Florence Nightingale?"_

"' _Know' is a strong word. She quite enjoyed glaring at me whenever we crossed paths...," a teasing glint entered his eye, "ah, perhaps there_ _ **is**_ _a resemblance."_

 _She rolled her eyes before voicing the other concern rattling in her head. "What about Monique?"_

" _Oh I suppose I could feed and and water her as needed."_

" _Klaus-"_

" _Calm your ruffled feathers, witch. The little wolf will be cared for."_

" _You just enjoy aggravating me don't you?"_

 _A slow smile crept along the corner of his mouth. "Immensely."_

 _She made a huffing noise, and he reached out a hand to cup her cheek. His touch was warm, heavy with gentleness._

" _Go to your father. Stay as long as you need."_

 _She leaned into his palm almost instinctively. The callused skin felt familiar, even safe. It wasn't a feeling she could explain or understand, but something alive and natural as the morning sun or dew on the grass. She wanted to forget those parts of the world that existed outside of this enclave, to refuse all other logics but this. She wanted to stay, here._

" _I'm coming back," she said quietly._

 _Her promise was a stone sinking into water. And whether the ripples touched his feet, he didn't say._

* * *

He answers on the third ring.

"Hello, love."

"...hi," she says awkwardly.

"Something you need?" it's a casual enough question, but his deep voice makes her toes curl a little and she wants to hide all over again, although for entirely different reasons.

"I - just wanted to talk to Monique." It's not completely a lie, Bonnie reasons with herself.

"Ah, well let me pry her from the clutch of the television."

"Thanks..."

She hears him move through the house, up the stairs. His silent, faraway presence comforts her far more than it should.

"How are you faring in our erstwhile hometown?" he questions, startling her.

 _I feel like a stranger in the house I grew up in. The neighbors look at me like I'm bringing dishonor to the whole village by being pregnant. The baby moved again last night and I thought about you saying "butterflies". I miss the taste of that dumb breakfast porridge you make. I miss your notes and your ridiculous handwriting. I miss -_

"I'm fine," she says, lightly.

There's a pause like he's formulating a response. But it passes, and she hears him hand the phone to Monique.

The girl's voice rings bright and clear, instantly lifting Bonnie's mood."Bonnie! Guess what? Hogwarts got me the new Dragon Age."

"I'm sure he did. Have you done your reading?"

"Yeah," Monique grumbles, "he wouldn't give me the game unless I finished."

Bonnie feels her mouth move in a smile. She cradles the phone on her shoulder like a talisman.

"Tell me what else you did today."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews and follows! Do let me know your thoughts in the reviews xoxoxo_


	11. fugue, reprised

_**A/N:** Sorry about the gap in updates, the past month and a half have been ridiculously stressful. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and kept my spirits up these past few weeks, and shoutout to Chelle for being my Klonnie landfill neighbor. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

Abby Bennett is beautiful.

This fact washes over Bonnie with the late afternoon sunlight that silhouettes her mother like a portrait. She is some inches taller than her daughter, with long black curls pinned in silver barrettes, wearing a flowered green sundress and matching espadrilles. Everything about her, from the rose lipstick to the gold-and-white purse slung over a tanned shoulder, is arranged in an elegant synchronicity.

Bonnie, who had thought her flowy blue maxi fine enough for lunch at Mystic Grill, suddenly feels underdressed.

"Hi," she says, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. "I umm ordered some chips and guac...I'm hungry every half hour now." She smiles cheerily, ignoring the stone in the pit of her stomach, the sudden flood of questions in her throat. Something tells her Abby Bennett would not respond well to public displays of strong emotion.

"I ate like a horse the end of my second trimester too. Pints of ice cream and Chinese food, sometimes together," Abby makes a face, sliding gracefully into the booth. "Do you eat a lot of pickles?."

"All the time! I can't stop."

Abby laughs ruefully. "I used to take a jar with me to work and eat in my cubicle. My keyboard smelled like pickle juice for months."

"I eat like half a jar everyday," Bonnie confesses. "It's embarrassing."

"They just taste so darn _good_ though. _Especially_ with a little mustard-,"

"Oh my god, I love putting mustard on mine. People think I'm crazy."

"They're totally missing out."

Bonnie drinks in her mother's smile, determined to ensure their shared laughter doesn't skitter off. That the silence, with thirteen missing years tied to its ankles, doesn't sink between them.

* * *

 _She'd had been back in Virginia almost three weeks when she sat down at her dad's desktop computer and saw the email from Abby Bennett. Several emails, in fact, dating back over the course of two months and each one containing the same information: she was visiting Mystic Falls and needed to deliver part of Sheila's will to Bonnie._

 _She confronted Rudy about the messages one evening while_ _Anaïs_ _was in the shower._

 _His reaction outraged her._

 _Rudy massaged his temples, his face taut and weary. "I told her, whatever she needs to give you she can give my lawyer. There is no need for you two to be in the same room-,"_

" _That's not your decision to make! I had a right to know-"_

" _I had a right to know a lot of things too," he said, tiredly. "Like the fact that I was going to be a grandfather."_

 _Bonnie opened and closed her mouth. She fought against the feeling that she was just a child, a girl who doesn't know any better. "I was going to tell you, it's just-,"_

" _Complicated? Difficult? I don't even know where you've been for the past few months, Bonnie." His jaw clicked. "Or who you've been with."_

" _I've been staying with a friend, he's. -"_

" _A 'friend' who lets you stay with him for free and buys you clothes? I suppose he's the father?"_

" _No! He isn't. He can't- anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm not staying with him for free, I was helping him with some magic stuff...," she trailed off, noticing the pinch of anger on Rudy's face._

" _Of course, magic." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I wouldn't understand anything about that, would I? That's what your grandmother used to say."_

 _And Bonnie saw decades mapped on his face, in the loose skin under his eyes, the deep lines on his forehead, the soft flesh of his jaw. Decades of being on the outside looking into a world of magical beings where he had no power to intervene, no power to gain a foothold, no power to prevent his wife from leaving, to protect his daughter._

 _She wished, in that moment, that she felt sympathy or compassion, even anger. But these emotions required attachment, a knowledge of the person or thing they were drawn to._

 _Standing there before the man she called father, in the house she had spent her growing years, all she felt was empty._

* * *

Bonnie learns that she has a half brother: Jamie. He just finished middle school, is the star of the school debate team, and wants to be a photographer some day.

Abby shows her a picture of a skinny, dark-eyed boy with a beaming smile, dressed in a smart navy suit. There's a self-assured radiance to him that fills Bonnie's throat with envy, makes it hard to swallow. She sees the way her mother's eyes shine as they look upon Jamie's image and tries to remember a time when Abby had looked at her that way, had smiled that stained glass smile.

Still, she makes herself focus on the positive. She has a sibling, someone who shares Bennett blood, shares the curious burden and gift of generations upon generations of witches and warlocks.

When she asks about Jamie's powers however, Abby's smile flickers and dims. Jamie doesn't have any magic, Abby tells her. She made sure of it.

"What do you mean 'made sure'?"

"Oh it's no big deal," Abby waves a hand, the charms on her Pandora bracelet tinkling like faint laughter. "Plenty of witches take that option nowadays. The right herbs at the right stage of pregnancy and the magic never gets a chance to take hold."

Bonnie feels an emptiness again, like her bones are hollow, like the wind is whistling through her.

"Just...like that?"

Abby nods, tucking Jamie's picture back into her wallet. "Bonnie...the reason I wanted to see you is because, well, your grandmother insisted on leaving me in charge of her...will." She reaches into her purse and retrieves a manila envelope sealed with a curious wax. "I kept telling her to just let a lawyer handle it but she insisted. She was always so stubborn."

 _She was funny too, and brave_ , Bonnie wants to insist. _She smelled like jasmine oil. She stroked my hair sometimes if I couldn't sleep. She helped me out of a fugue state before I even knew what that was._

"Are you feeling okay?" Abby questions, a small frown on her perfect forehead.

She reaches for a glass of water and gulps it down. Manages a smile. "I'm okay. So...Grams' left you in charge of her will?"

Abby sighs, folding her manicured hands. "She left you her entire estate, Bonnie. The land, the house, her savings, some property she had in Switzerland. I would estimate it's all worth about half a million dollars, after tax."

Bonnie gapes. Half a million -

Sheila had always lived so simply, thrifting her clothes, tutoring kids at the college, collecting old books on the history of witchcraft that academics considered obsolete.

"It's a magic seal, see?" Abby points to the ornate wax stamp that pops open at a touch. "She mixed it herself when you were a baby, with some of our blood and hers. She told me it's spelled to open when 'the next generation of the Bennett line is preparing to be born'." She shrugged her slim shoulders with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I thought it would open for Jamie but...I guess Mom had other ideas."

Bonnie grasps the envelope with trembling fingers, too dazed to speak.

"I tried with you too, you know," Abby says, looking her over speculatively. "The herbs, I mean. They didn't work, of course. You and magic were always like this," she held up two entwined fingers. "Inseparable."

Such a strange word, Bonnie thinks. _Inseparable._ There's something thorny in the syllables, something that stings.

* * *

She stands next to her mother her under the restaurant awning while Abby waits for a cab. Her flight to Atlanta is leaving in two hours.

"You don't have to wait with me," Abby says, readjusting her purse strap. Her face is still dewy and fresh, her lipstick unmarred. Every so often she'll tilt her head and Bonnie feels like she's catching her own reflection, furtively, out the corner of her eye, in a small and hidden mirror.

"I don't mind," Bonnie smiles at her. "Hey... I was wondering-,"

"Just a sec, hun." Abby holds up a finger and answers her phone. Bonnie tries not to fidget. The seconds tick by, small and sharp as papercuts. Their afternoon together is dissolving like a lemon drop under the tongue.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be home in a few hours. Make sure dad heats up the leftovers okay? Love you too. Bye."

Unseasonal clouds are gathering in the sky, hastening a grey, watery dusk. The bright yellow of the cab looks almost garish.

Abby opens a flowery Coach umbrella over her head. "That's my cab. Thanks for meeting me, Bonnie. And congratulations, you're a little heiress now."

"Oh but...it doesn't have to be just my money, right? We can split it, Jamie and me. I can't wait to meet him... maybe after the baby's born I can-,"

"Bonnie-," Abby stops her with a hand on her arm, her smile glassy again, cool and quiet, without brightness. It's the first time her mother has touched her in thirteen years. "Bonnie, you can't - meet Jamie. He and my husband...honey, they don't know about you. They don't know anything about my life in Mystic Falls, or witches and - and that other stuff. I just came to town to give you the will. It had to be delivered personally-...," she withdraws her hand. "I'm so sorry, if you got the wrong idea - It's just, I _can't_ tell them. It would -,"

The honking cab cuts her off.

Bonnie blinks, trying to feel her feet on the pavement. There's a strange, yawning hole in the middle of her. She thinks it will stretch and stretch, until she is no more.

"Sorry, Bonnie, I have to go. Go inside before you get too wet now." She gives a little wave from under her bright umbrella, gesturing at Bonnie's belly. "And good luck with everything!"

Bonnie searches for a word, a gesture, something she can throw like a hook, something to hold on to. But she has one last glimpse of her mother, a woman standing palaquinned by rain and yet untouched by a single drop, and knows, deep down, that nothing she could say, nothing she could offer, nothing she could try and be, would be enough to keep her there.

Abby disappears into the cab. Bonnie grows vaguely aware that rain is seeping through her sandals. She looks down at her hands, peppered with water. Feels rivulets down her back.

"Bonnie!"

A familiar, young voice calls out. She looks up and sees Monique bounding towards her, her sneakers splashing through puddles. Klaus follows behind, navigating the slippery sidewalk with ease in his usual boots.

She wants to laugh, ask them when they got here, tell Monique to pull her hood up over her bare head. But she finds she can't speak, or move. She is dripping at every corner, wearing rain for earrings.

"We saw your car!" Monique bounces on her heels. She squints up, puzzled. "The rain just started out of nowhere...Bonnie?"

The girl takes her hand, giving her a little shake. "Bonnie?"

Klaus' shadow falls across her, she feels her chin being tilted up. Rain pools at the corners of her mouth. He seems displeased, she thinks it must be the weather.

The words come slowly, her lips barely moving. "I- I don't have an umbrella."

* * *

"I don't have an umbrella-," she mumbles again as the car rolls up a long driveway to stop in front of a towering house. The rain is slanting sideways now, like a crooked smile.

Klaus places the back of his hand along her neck, his touch cool and dry. He's still frowning. Bonnie hears him give Monique a quick instruction followed by his phone. Then, he's sliding her out of the car and into his arms.

The world spins and swoops and she can't find the ground. She struggles against his hold, trying to put her feet down.

"Hold _still_ will you -," he mutters, ducking her flying hands.

"I can walk-,"

"No doubt," he replies, lifting and carrying her towards the house. He pauses at the door and the loss of motion hits her. Her head falls dizzily on his shoulder.

"Put... me down," she manages.

He snorts. "Where, pray? Among the azalea bushes?"

She can't raise her head, the rain makes everything look like smudged watercolors.

Klaus' face looms in her vision, his brow all furrowed. She wants to touch the lines there and smooth them out like paper, but her hand feels too heavy to lift.

Her magic buzzes fever-hot beneath her skin, like dragonflies in summer trapped behind a window screen. He strides inside, Monique at his heels, footsteps echoing around the vast, empty rooms.

Her eyes drift close as he lays on her something soft, next to an empty fireplace.

* * *

She is burning, her magic blazing with the effort to anchor her, her consciousness drifting like smoke. Bonnie blinks salt from her eyes. She's floating-

"Put your arms around my neck."

-no, being lifted.

Klaus is carrying her upstairs. She holds onto him, her nose brushing his shoulder.

She's so parched, it hurts to swallow. She hears running water and licks her lips. It's strange, like her tongue and mouth are two separate entities, disconnected from any sense of her body. She's so very thirsty, but the thirst feels almost removed, like a fly buzzing around her. There's a piece of her burning to run away, far away, and let this body sag with absence. Her magic tightens its fiery tethers.

The sound of water fills her ears and the bright light of a bathroom nearly blinds her. She sees Monique emptying a bag of ice into an enormous tub, her sweatshirt rolled up to her thin elbows. Bonnie wants to touch those elbows, tell her everything's alright, be the one holding the blankets again. But she can't seem to manage the words, to manage anything save being lowered into the tub like she is a child herself.

The cold water cuts through her haze. Her dress is billowing like blue clouds around her. She wants to fight them off. She thinks she might drown-

"Easy, love- "

Klaus pushes the soaked fabric off her shoulders, over her breasts, down to her hips. She gasps when her skin breathes free. His hands are holding her like she might float away. Steady, earthen hands. Hands that keep her, that want her to stay.

Seized by a sudden, tearing panic, her own hands fly to her belly. She feels for any movement, a sign that her baby is still swimming happily, that her body can still hold him this way.

Her baby boy, her butterfly.

Her eyes burn with tears that won't come, throat clogging in desperation, "He's not moving - I can't feel anything-," she hiccups, "Please, I can't-,"

Klaus covers her hands with his own, stilling their frantic movements. "He's fine-,"

"I don't feel -,"

"I can hear his heartbeat," he says simply, his eyes going wolf-amber for a moment. "The baby's fine, sweetheart."

"I feel so stupid," she whispers, hot tears slipping from her eyes. She'd wanted so much to be strong and brave for her baby, like a well-rooted tree. To be the kind of mother that can weather any storm. But she's just a girl in a blue dress hungry for love who's never really been fed, whose own mother doesn't want her, not at five and not at eighteen.

"Just a few more minutes. Gloria's orders." Klaus adds gruffly when he notices her shivering. He stands and wipes his hands on a towel, averting his eyes from her exposed body. Bonnie nods, chewing on her lip in an effort at control, fighting down the urge to beg him to stay, to hold her. The bathroom door closes quietly behind him.

The bathwater is thick with magic, with the feverish effluvia of energy. Her sobs pour out of her with all the rage she did not know a five year old girl could possess, with a depth of angry grief she had not realized she'd carried under her skin for thirteen years.

They come, and come in waves. They wrench her back into herself.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Soooo don't hate me! LOL. I already have most of next chapter written, so you should see another update pretty soon. I sweated over this chapter for two weeks, so do let me know your thoughts in the reviews ^_^_


	12. Chapter 12: a knowledge of birds

_**A/N:** So this chapter is short but (I think) sweet. Thank you for all your beautiful reviews last chapter, I've never had a story break 200 reviews before so I'm both humbled and happy. I've also made a little soundtrack for this story; you can find it on Spotify under my username anastasxa_g, or on Tumblr in my #klonnie tag. If you have trouble getting the link, PM me and I'll be happy to share. _

_Also, I know many of you are reading **"count the stars and you will know"** by thefudge is grumpy but if you aren't, get yourself to that story immediately! Shoutout to her for inspiring me to finish this chapter. And finally, one of my fave Klonnie writers of all time, irishcookie (who goes by thebennettdiaries on Tumblr) came back from hiatus a few weeks ago and is writing a klonnie zombie apocalypse AU titled **"in the end"** which is published on her blog. I can't praise this AU enough, so get yourself some of that goodness and be sure to leave her some love._

* * *

A plush robe with billowing sleeves that make her feel like she's cosplaying Gandalf the Grey is the only garment Bonnie can find.

She opens the bathroom door and finds Monique seated on the floor, elbows wrapped around her knees, silent and alert. Bonnie has the startling impression of a wolf standing guard.

"Hey...,"

The girl mouths a barely discernible, "Hi," in response.

She leans awkwardly against the doorframe. "Umm... when did you guys get to Mystic Falls?"

"In the afternoon," Monique replies, staring straight ahead at the antique furnishings. "We ate lunch, then were on our way to look at the Falls when we saw your car."

The girl's stiff posture makes Bonnie cringe. Her tears threaten to start all over again. "I'm sorry that you didn't get to go."

Monique shrugs.

"The falls are really pretty this time of year. If you want...we can go tomorrow."

Another shrug. She shifts slightly and Bonnie catches a glimpse of her face, of the eyes and nose reddened by crying.

"Oh, sweetie I'm-,"

Klaus appears in the doorway. He glances between the two of them before addressing Monique in a more gentle tone of voice than Bonnie's ever heard him use.

"There's food downstairs, pet."

The girl rises to her feet without a word and makes to leave the room. Klaus stops her with a hand on her shoulder. They exchange a glance, and the hybrid murmurs a few more words to her. Monique nods reluctantly, bumps his hand with her head, and hurries off. The small, wolfish gesture tugs at Bonnie's heart.

She shuffles her feet, words sticking in her throat. She wants to return to that morning before she left Montana, when he'd cradled her cheek and urged her to go, when she'd leaned into his touch and promised to return. Or the night of the eclipse, his voice saying _Stay_ , his nose in her hair. Or even just an hour ago in the cold bathtub, and the rough, soothing warmth of his hands.

The language of water and flesh is so much easier, so much less afraid.

"I'm sorry," she says again, quickly wiping a tear on her sleeve. "I'm so stupid, I should've known she wasn't going to want anything to do with me."

He cocks his head, regarding her like she's grown horns. "You're _sorry_?"

She sniffs, playing with the ties on her robe. Correction, _his_ robe. There's an ornate _NM_ embroidered on the right side.

"If -if I can dry my dress, I'll get out of your way. You guys should enjoy the rest of your evening, maybe go to the falls tomorrow."

She feels jagged and brittle, like a puzzle piece that's broken out of shape, no longer able to complete a picture. Her own mother is better off without her. Maybe Klaus and Monique are better off without her too.

Not wanting to cry in front of him anymore, Bonnie turns to walk back into the bathroom and retrieve her dress.

Klaus moves like a cat, slow and quiet, to stand behind her, one hand leaning on the doorframe by her head. "Leave it. I'll have someone launder your things."

Her soaked dress and undergarments are draped over the lip of the bathtub. They look like husks that insects leave behind. She glances out the window at the soft rain. She wants to fall like that, calm and unapologetic, into something that waits to receive her.

"Monique is upset," she says in a small voice. "I probably scared her."

He's close enough to touch her, for her to feel the warmth of his body. But neither of them move.

" _Into each life a little rain must fall_ , as the saying goes, and I suspect hers has seen a deluge. You are her glimpse of the sun. It is the thought of losing you that terrifies her."

The texture of his voice is not smooth, makes no attempt at suavity. It's like wet gravel on her fingers, something born of the friction between hard and soft. The words register slowly. That Monique might be feeling even an ounce of such fear, even a thumbnail of what she felt when Abby drove away in that cab, brings her close to tears again.

"I should go talk to her-"

She almost collides with his chest.

"Do you recall the state I was in after the eclipse?" he drawls.

"Yes...," she says faintly, cheeks burning.

"And...would you have then deemed me capable of the kind of conversation you are trying to undertake?"

Bonnie heaves a reluctant sigh.

"No."

"Get some rest, little witch. For once." He adds, turning to leave, "I will have some food sent up for you-"

"Klaus, wait," she tugs on the sleeve of his grey Henley. "You'll tell her I'm fine? So she won't worry?"

He makes a face. "She can see for herself in the morning. In the meantime, I will keep her company as she consumes all the terrible pizza she desires. Maybe I shall even deign to join her at a _videogame_."

Bonnie has to smile a little. "Now _that_ I'd like to see."

"I confess none of those 'games' seem really appealing save one. I believe it's called Mortal Combat."

Her smile grows wider.

Her hand is still lingering on his shirt. He plucks her wrist like a flower, raising it to his face. "Are you cold?" he inquires, noting the fine tremors still lingering from her ice bath. She'd been relishing those little shivers, the way they shocked her into feeling each layer of her body, skin and flesh and blood and bone. But the callused roughness of his palm brings a different awareness, one that makes her want to latch onto him in a flare of sudden longing.

"A little," she admits, "But it's not bad-"

His nose touches her palm, travels down to her wrist, taking small breaths along the way. Her words fade into silence.

"You smell like me," he murmurs at length.

She gives a shaky kind of laugh. "It's probably the robe."

He grunts, his mouth running over her fingers and opening over her knuckles, blunt teeth teasing each joint. "The last full moon, when I found you asleep on the sofa, you smelled like me then too. I wanted to bury my face in you."

Her throat goes dry, breath hitching a little as he continues to smell her.

"I want to kill her you know," he says suddenly, softly, anger vibrating in his voice. "Bring you her heart, so you can crush it beneath your foot."

It's like an enormous weight being suddenly lifted. He's furious on her behalf. Furious enough to kill. Someone is angry _for her._ Bonnie almost sways on her feet. He steadies her with his other hand.

"I...don't want her dead, Klaus."

He raises his mouth from her skin. "Then she needs reminding that her life is in your debt."

"Klaus-,"

"I will not listen to you defend her actions-,"

"I'm not I just-,"

"- or blame yourself for her cowardice."

He bites off that last word savagely enough to make her flinch. The wolf flashes in his eyes, ever close to the surface. He's still cradling her wrist.

"I don't want to talk about her," Bonnie says. "It makes me feel sick."

He's quiet for a long time. Then, his grip on her hand loosens.

"As you wish."

She senses him pulling away, back into himself. That offering to kill Abby - absurd and terrifying as that is - is the only comfort he knows how to give. The only kind he thinks himself capable of giving.

With a sinking panic she realizes he's going to leave, walk downstairs, stop holding her hand.

Words she learned long ago never to say out loud - there was no point, people left, and neither word nor deed could make them return, make them want to hold you in all the ways you ached for them to hold you - crowd her throat.

 _Stay_. _Stay with me._

Klaus runs a thumb over her wrist-bone, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

She shakes her head, letting her hand drift to the front of his shirt and twist in one of his necklaces in a blind effort to keep him there. She drinks in the tiny details of his nearness. The stubble along his jaw, the small mole on the side of his neck.

Bonnie closes her eyes, recalling his simple, feral movements from the night of the eclipse. She touches the tip of his nose where his mole is. He freezes. She drags in a long breath.

Her eyelashes flutter along his throat. She breathes, and breathes again. A shudder travels through him and his arm bands around her waist.

His voice, low and hoarse, warms her ear."What's this, love?"

"I- I don't know," she whispers, clinging to his shirt.

Slowly, his head dips down, nose burying in the crook of her neck. She feels him nuzzle the soft curve there, inhaling a deep lungful of her scent. A fever steals over her body quite different than the one from before when his stubble grazes the sensitive skin, mouth soothing the friction with soft, lingering kisses. Bonnie leans into him and arches her neck. She tries to stay as still and quiet as possible. To not give voice to the burgeoning need for his presence. If he could glimpse the yawning hunger inside her, he would surely flee, surely -

She gasps at the feel of his tongue dancing over her pulse. His hands press her closer, mindful of her belly, while he claims her neck with his mouth.

Oh, this is so much less complicated than all the knotted words she'd held in her throat, so much simpler than trying to explain anything - to herself or to anyone else.

 _I missed you so much._

Klaus nips the soft flesh under her jaw.

 _I know._

Her hands land on his chest. Their mouths touch before she even realizes what they're doing. Light kisses that slowly deepen. It feels like she's been kissing him for a long time, like this is just a glimpse of what's come before, and what will come after.

There's a dazed quality to their kissing, something instinctive.

Bonnie rises on her tiptoes, following his mouth. Her arms go around his neck, like before. He holds her needily. A flock of thoughts crowds her mind. She is kissing Klaus. She _likes_ kissing Klaus. Likes the way he smells. Likes smelling of him. Given what they've been to each other in the past, she likes a lot of things she probably shouldn't.

He gives a low, soft growl and his hands envelop the planes of her back. Those bird-like thoughts disappear, but they leave their wings. She is soaring with her toes on the ground, chasing a feeling both new and comforting. Something she can't ever remember knowing. Something she's been aching for. Something safe and vital and warm. A kind of animal comfort.

 _Home,_ she thinks dizzily.

He tastes like home.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Do let me know your thoughts! xoxox_


	13. Chapter 13: the company of wolves

Monique is chasing dragonflies.

Seated on a picnic blanket with a bowl of blackberries in her lap, Bonnie watches the young wolf leap nimbly from rock to rock, camera in hand, crouching close to get the right angle.

She'd forgotten how beautiful the falls are in early summer, surrounded by blossoming trees, sunlight playing in the water. And with the spring showers having temporarily abated, everything looks crystalline, glistening, new.

Klaus sketches beside her, and though his hand moves carefully over the paper Bonnie doesn't miss the small glances he directs at Monique to gauge her location. It's been a week since her painful meeting with Abby, and she's divided her time between Rudy and the two wolves who were now a part of her life in ways she's still unravelling.

The morning is suffused with a soft, tranquil quality and all she wants is to sink into that lightness, but there's thoughts and worries teeming in her mind like fish.

"Wishing you'd brought pickles instead?" Klaus asks, nodding at the untouched berries.

She pretends to tap her chin thoughtfully. "Pickles and blackberries...now there's a combo we should try."

"Thank you, I'd rather eat upholstery," he says, popping a berry in his mouth. His hand brushes her cheek and she leans quietly into the touch.

"You're worried about something," he remarks, studying her face.

"Just thinking about what I'm gonna tell everyone later today."

"My suggestion remains."

Bonnie smiles in spite of herself. "I can't just tell them to 'bugger off', Klaus. I owe them an explanation."

"You owe them nothing."

The vehemence in his voice never fails to startle. She had asked Caroline to arrange a meeting between her, Elena, the Salvatores and Jeremy for this afternoon, so she could finally come clean about the past few months of her life. Klaus, naturally, had suggested she spare herself the trouble and send a note attached to a Molotov cocktail instead.

She covers his hand with hers, choosing her words carefully. "I owe it to myself too. And, I owe it to him," she says, pointing at her belly. "I don't want him to have any reason to feel ashamed of how he came to be...or who he is, you know? If I can't look them in the eye and tell them about my choices, about my child...then how am I going to be the kind of mother he needs?"

Something flickers across his face, and he regards her for a moment like she's something quite new, something unearthly. Like he's recalling something he'd forced himself to forget.

He brushes a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "You, love, are already the mother he deserves."

Her heart flutters a little at the tone of his voice, his steady, burning gaze. "You don't have to come with me," she says, alluding to his words when she'd told him she was meeting her friends. "It'll be easier if you aren't there...,"

"For you, or for them?"

"Klaus-,"

"I will be no further than the driveway, with Monique no doubt accompanying me," he adds with an amused quirk and a quick glance at the preoccupied wolf.

"Klaus, trust me, it'll be fine-,"

"It's not you I don't trust, love."

She sighs, facing a stubbornness as unyielding as her own. "So...we kiss one time and suddenly I have my own security detail?" she asks, lightly.

His response is to kiss her again, firm and purposeful, a hand grasping the nape of her neck while his mouth covers hers, their noses crushed into each other. Bonnie takes deep inhales between each pass of their lips, craving that wild, smoky scent that she wants wrapped around her like a blanket. She feels languorous as a cat in a pool of warmth. When his hand travels down to rub circles over the soreness beginning to manifest in her lower back , she almost purrs. It's as though he could find and soothe every ache in her body if he wished. The thought, overwhelming, makes her draw back and rest her forehead against his.

They both turn at the conspicuous click of a camera. The very picture of innocence, Monique returns smoothly to her dragonflies

* * *

Hands folded under the swell of her belly Bonnie waits for someone - anyone - to say something instead of gaping at her like she's grown two heads. The air is thick enough to cut.

Caroline, bless her heart, is the first to speak. "You know friends usually congratulate their friends when they're expecting," she addresses the others.

Damon snorts, earning a disapproving look from Stefan who sits down across from Bonnie. "Who's the father?" he asks with a hint of concern.

"This guy I met one night, you don't know him," she says, quickly, having decided not to involve Jake at all. There's no real way to tell a college age human that they're going to have a witch baby, and she's not about to risk putting her son through what she endured with Rudy and Abby.

She finally steals a glance at Jeremy, who's slouched in a chair in the corner with a pained look on his face. Bonnie summons that sense of certainty with which she'd explained herself to Klaus, that clarity she'd felt sitting by the falls watching Monique. She thinks about them outside in the car, waiting for her, and feels a quiet relief like an umbrella's opening above her in the rain. "I wanted to tell you all not only because I'm keeping the baby - obviously - but umm...I sort of live with Klaus now. And when he goes back to Montana I'm going with him."

This causes the expected degree of consternation.

"Bon...what?"

"You're going to raise a baby around _Klaus_?"

"Wait...he lives in _Montana_?"

"Damon, please. Priorities."

And then, the question she's been dreading comes from Elena. "Are you and Klaus like a thing?" The brunette uses air quotes to make her point, but her forehead is etched with concern.

Whatever Bonnie doesn't say is surely written all over her face, because Elena's eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline.

"Klaus and I have...an understanding," Bonnie says tentatively, flushing from head to toe. "He was there for me, and I was for him. I don't know how I know but - I _know_ this is the best choice for me and the baby." She isn't sure where those last words came from, but her voice trembles with a new kind of conviction. At the same time, she finds herself reluctant to say more. There's something too ineffable, too intimate in what she'd shared with Klaus that won't translate into language. Something she wants to keep to herself.

Another silence descends, this time broken by Jeremy vacating his chair and the room. Bonnie watches him go with a small twinge. She hadn't exactly expected him to welcome her news with enthusiasm, even though it was his infidelity that had driven her to sleep with Jake that night. But the part of her that misses what friendship they once had can't help wonder if things could've been different. The relief she feels at telling her truth is clean but sharp, and she braces for the ache in her heart as she prepares to walk away from the people who, for better or worse, had been closer to her than any blood family.

It's Elena who surprises her with a hug, holding her tightly before pulling back with a small smile. "If you're happy and safe, that's all that matters to me. Even if..." she takes a deep breath, then adds, "...even if it's with Klaus."

Bonnie gapes a little.

"I mean, I don't think we're all gonna be best friends with him, or even like him," Elena continues, with a wry glance in the direction of the Salvatores. "But you see through people more than anyone else I know, Bon. And if you can see a reason why this is right then...I may not understand, but I trust you."

Bonnie feels the word 'trust' break over her like a wave. After months of self-doubt and worry and guilt, after her own mother rejecting both her and her baby, to have her longtime friend affirm her choices, to hear someone who's known her all her life regard her as though she isn't just a broken child, as though her decisions and needs aren't superfluous, is overwhelming. The tears brim and flow before she can speak, and soon they're coming so profusely she can hardly speak at all.

"It's all the stupid hormones," she laughs thickly as both Elena and Caroline put their arms around her.

"So...is someone gonna explain why Klaus lives in Montana?" Damon chimes in, surveying the room.

Caroline ignores him pointedly. "You, Bonnie Bennett, aren't going anywhere until we have a baby shower."

"Care-,"

"She's right," Elena pipes up. "And you know I wouldn't say that lightly."

Caroline rolls her eyes before whipping out a notepad from her nearby purse. "Sooo... on a scale of one to Elena's goth phase in fifth grade how tacky is it to combine a graduation party with a baby shower?"

* * *

"And exactly what part of this recipe is supposed to be French?"

"Ooohmygod no one cares, Hogwarts. It just tastes good-,"

Bonnie watches them squabble with a smile. They'd repaired back to the Mikaelson manor where Monique had convinced Klaus that making french toast for dinner would be an excellent use of their time. They'd sorted through at least half a dozen recipes before settling on one that satisfied both, only to disagree about the amount of sugar and butter. From her spot on the couch Bonnie tries to offer a mediating suggestion or two only to be ignored. Clearly, the matter of breakfast food is a serious one between wolf and wolf.

Monique moves to wheedling Klaus about adding bourbon to the batter when Bonnie's phone rings. Seeing Gloria's number, she steps outside to the small patio and closes the door behind her.

"How you feeling?" the older witch inquires.

"I'm much better. My appetite's coming back and I'm taking more naps."

"Glad to hear it," Gloria chuckles. "Sounds like your little wolf pack got there right on time."

Bonnie steals a glance through the screen door in time to see Klaus holding a bottle of bourbon out of Monique's reach. She wants to go back inside and be absorbed into the feelings of warmth bubbling up inside her that made the sting of Abby's rejection seem like a distant dream. She wants, almost viscerally, to be wrapped up in Klaus' arms again and glut herself on a safety and comfort she's hungered for and been denied all her life.

"Bonnie? You there? I actually called about some test results-"

" - yeah I'm here," she says, wrapping an arm over her stomach as Gloria's words sink in causing a small wave of panic."Test results?"

"Everything's alright," Gloria assures her. "I did the usual spells on your blood sample and everything came back fine. More than fine, actually."

Gloria pauses, then speaks in a softer tone. "Did you know your baby's part wolf?"

Bonnie feels her legs tremble as she lowers herself into a chair. _Jake_ , her impulsive one night stand... a wolf. So much for him being an uninformed human.

"I take it you didn't," Gloria says, lightly. "Well, it's nothing to fret about. There's some special herbs you'll need to take for nutrition, and you'll start noticing some symptoms around the full moon-,"

Gloria continues her explanation while Bonnie let the waves of realization wash over her. One by one, events in the past few months connect like pearls on a string. The tumult of her emotions the night of the eclipse, how she can no longer get enough of certain scents and tastes. The pull she feels, different in nature but equally gut-wrenching, to both Monique and Klaus. She'd chalked it all down to normal pregnancy symptoms, but it was more. It's her baby, communing and unfurling deep inside her, nudging her in uncharted directions. For the first time since she learned she was pregnant Bonnie feels a calmness descend. She'd been so worried about her impending motherhood - about whether she could ever make this baby feel connected to a sense of family, to a mother who might make mistakes but who'd never stop loving him and most of all never abandon him - that she hadn't realized how much her decisions and desires were already ineffably linked to the little life taking shape within. It's all so clear. Like cleaning dust off a window and seeing a new landscape emerge. Hills and rivers, trees with their branches full of birds, a sky suddenly blue and full of promise. Everything makes tremulous, perfect sense. Everything-

"But that's not all," Gloria interrupts her thoughts. "You come from one of the strongest magical lines in the world, Bonnie. Any child of yours, no matter who the father, was also always going to be a witch."

The brief, luminous feeling fades, and a foreboding takes its place. "What are you saying?" Bonnie asks quietly, although she feels the answer hovering above, waiting for her to grasp it.

"That your recent choice of company is certainly interesting," Gloria says dryly before adding in a gentler tone. "Honey, your baby's gonna be a hybrid."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This fic is officially off it's unofficial hiatus! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and messaged me asking me to update. This story has a special place in my heart and it makes me beyond happy to know you guys feel the same. Next up: get ready for baby shower drama (and some baby daddy drama), some deets about Monique's past, Klaus learning the baby's a hybrid, and some extra soft Klonnie times (because I play to my strengths! lol). Thank you again for your patience and support, and I hope you enjoyed this!_


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